Blue Moon at the Forbidden Planet
by NotTasha
Summary: Another Magnificent Seven Round Robin by Violette, Tipper, Sablecain, HeatherF, J Brooks and NotTasha. I wish I could tag everyone, but I can't on this site, so we're just posting it under my name. The guys go to a carnival. It all goes downhill from there. All seven participate
1. Part 1

**BLUE MOON at the FORBIDDEN PLANET**

By: Violette, JBrooks, Tipper, HeatherF, SableCain and NotTasha

 **PART 1**

 _Notes: Back in 2010 the six of came together to write the Round Robin called "Bad Moon over Rock Hollow" (also available at this site under my name). We had found a list of prompts from that year's Stargate Atlantis Fanficathon and decided to write an M7 Round Robin. We took turns writing a chapter, using their prompts as inspiration. What could possibly go wrong? It was all unplanned and we ended up with a very silly tale._

 _After taking a good long rest, we figured we'd try it again, using another list of prompts from a different year's SGA Fanficathon. The result is another ridiculous story that makes sense if you're kind. Once again, we took turns choosing a prompt from a list, and following it wherever it might take us. Strangely, there are a lot of reoccurring themes between the two stories. Once it was complete, we went through the story, fixing inconsistencies to help it make sense. I'm not sure if it helped much._

 _Violette meant to participate, but we lost our lovely friend just after the New Year. We miss her terribly and will always love her writing. She was unable to write a new chapter, but she is here – we have integrated one of her unfinished stories into our project so that she could be included, as I know she would want to be. Violette, we love you and miss you._

 **Chapter 1: Carnival or Fair**

The sun had long since set on Four Corners and her seven protectors, who could be found that evening, as with most others, at their usual tables in the saloon. Ezra, JD, Buck and Josiah were playing poker, while the other three peacekeepers relaxed over their beers at the next table. Things had been calm recently, and the lawmen were enjoying the lull while they could, knowing how rapidly the situation could change.

"Call," Buck said smugly, certain that he finally held the winning hand.

JD and Josiah had folded, so Ezra gave him a faint smile as he laid down his cards. "Straight flush, Mr. Wilmington."

Buck's face fell and he dropped his cards on the table. "Damn, Ezra! I thought I had you that time." He gestured futilely at the three aces in his hand.

JD snorted. "You don't play good enough to beat Ezra, Buck."

"Too true, Mr. Dunne," Ezra said with a grin.

Buck knocked JD's hat off his head. "Neither do you, kid."

"'Least I admit it," JD grumbled. As he bent to pick up his hat, a folded piece of paper slipped out of his pocket and fell to the floor.

Buck snatched it up before JD could get his hands on it. "What'cha got here?" Buck grinned as he unfolded it.

"Gimme that," JD said in annoyance. "It's just a flyer that came in with the mail." His irritated expression changed as he said, "It's for The Forbidden Planet."

"What was that?" Josiah asked, intrigued.

"A carnival," JD explained. "They've set up outside of Cedar Ridge. They have a roller coaster called 'Ride to the Moon,' and it's like you're actually going into space. And there's a merry-go-round called Blackbeard's Secret World."

"The moon and the sea?" Ezra asked, nonplussed. "And a planet?"

"It sounds special," JD told him. "I've been wanting to go there since this came in."

Josiah glanced at the flyer in Buck's hands. "If I remember right, you're headed to Cedar Ridge in the morning with Chris and Vin."

JD nodded. "Got to deliver that evidence. The District Attorney said he'd be waiting for us there. We can go to the carnival when we get there and see the DA that evening."

"A carnival?" Ezra drawled. "Neither Mr. Larabee nor Mr. Tanner seem to be the type to appreciate such diversions."

"I thought it would be fun," JD told him.

Buck's grin increased as he perused the page. "Forbidden Planet, huh? I wonder if they have any other sorts of experiences there." He raised his eyebrows, glancing to Ezra and Josiah. "Forbidden experiences, maybe?"

"It's a _carnival_ ," JD retorted, not catching that glance. "They got all sorts of stuff there."

Buck's expression shifted when he read aloud, "According to this, there's pie judging tomorrow."

"Scintillating," Ezra responded.

Josiah smiled broadly. "Where there's pie judging, there's bakers and where there are bakers there are ladies. Lots of ladies."

Buck looked intrigued.

"And pies," Josiah added slyly.

Ezra perked up.

"There's games of chance!" JD suddenly declared, snatching the page from Buck's hand.

Ezra cocked his head. "You don't say?"

"Come on," JD whined. "It'd be fun, don'tcha think?"

Ezra picked up his cards, shuffling them and not looking committed to anything.

"They got Navaho Fry Bread," JD read.

Josiah stood and rubbed his hands together. "That's it! I'm going." He paused and added, "Does it say if they have a freak show?"

"I bet they do," JD said. "Every carnival has one, don't they?"

"Nathan will want to go," Josiah stated.

Ezra and Buck looked up at that.

"He's got an interest," Josiah stated, looking baffled.

"To each his own," Ezra replied returning his attention to the cards.

JD stood abruptly and headed to the door. "I gotta go to Cedar Ridge in any case," he declared. "But I think we all should go to the carnival because it would be fun." The batwing doors slapped closed behind him.

"You got no argument from me," Josiah said, following him out.

Buck stood. "Come on," he said, picking up Ezra's hat from the table. "We just got to set this up with Chris."

"You can't be serious," Ezra stated.

"It'll be fun," Buck told him, jamming the hat down on Ezra's head as he headed toward Chris. "What could possibly go wrong?"

So, the next morning they all left Four Corners together, riding side-by-side, determined to enjoy the pleasant journey and a fun day at the carnival.

 **Chapter 2: Dreams are Like Rainbows. Only Idiots Chase Them**

The journey was pleasant enough. The destination, less so.

"This is your fault!" Ezra Standish hissed as he and Vin Tanner dove for cover behind a stand of pockmarked tin ducks in the carnival shooting gallery. A volley of shots pinged uselessly off the targets and the back of the booth.

"I told you those sights were off," Vin said smugly. "And this ain't my fault. It's Buck's fault."

An alarmed yelp sounded from the violet-striped tent next door. The one where the baked goods were being judged. Buck's voice floated out from the dim, fragrant interior of the tent, mingled with the sound of fists hitting flesh.

"This is all your fault, Josiah!" Buck yelled, accompanied by the sound of something that sounded a lot like a display table full of pies being upended.

Ezra scowled. He'd been dreaming about those prize-winning pies all afternoon. Row after flaky row of pecan, pumpkin, peach… His thoughts broke off as shots rattled off the tin ducks again, closer now, as their attackers adjusted their aim.

Vin nodded toward the canvas side of the booth and Ezra followed him, rolling quickly under the loose fabric - out of the line of fire and into the open-air chaos of the fair. Panicked townsfolk scattered to avoid the gunfights and fistfights breaking out around them, to the accompaniment of off-key calliope music coming from the undersea themed carousel.

The two lawmen picked themselves up off the ground — and promptly went flying as something huge and hairy crashed into them.

 **Chapter 3: Hope Springs Eternal**

Chris Larabee walked casually through the crowd, not unaware of the way people naturally parted to make a way for him. The sun was bright and warm, though clouds cluttered the horizon, promising coming rain. All he really hoped to find was a dark, cool place and some whiskey where he didn't have to listen to the rat-a-tat coming from the shooting gallery.

Around him, from tent poles hung a strange mix of planets, moons, stars, sea-life and devilish symbols mostly in purplish hues – an attempt at the "Forbidden Planet" theme. It ended up looking confused and poorly planned.

Scanning the various tents as he walked, he stopped short as a small, red-haired woman with a huge, pale-yellow snake wrapped around her neck sauntered in front of him.

"Care for a show?" She blinked long eyelashes and smiled as she lifted the head of the snake closer to his face.

Chris took a step back, caught more off guard by the missing front teeth than the snake. He hardly registered her face as he turned away. "Hell no. Whiskey," he demanded.

The woman sighed and shrugged toward a dingy, striped tent to the left. She watched him as he left her.

Chris made it to the entrance of the tent, his mouth watering in anticipation when a large commotion caught his attention.

For a moment, he refused to turn around. He heard the gunshots and a bellow that sounded suspiciously like Buck. He closed his eyes, warring within himself before he hung his head and slowly turned away from the tent. He really just hoped for a decent glass of whiskey.

 **Chapter 4: Creature from the Black Lagoon**

"Come one, come all!" the man called, standing in front of a largish tent off to one side. "Come see the freakishly bizarre, the weird and abnormal, the oddest collection of…hell, are they even human?... specimens you will ever have the horror to behold!"

Nathan turned his head at the words, "are they even human?", and looked at the large tent occupying the far corner of the fairground.

"No," Josiah said, snagging his arm. "Don't even think about it."

"But—"

"You're going to go in there, and then you're going to want to help someone you think is being oppressed or harmed. We're not doing that."

"But—"

"I've tried it before, brother, it leads to nothing but bad feelings and stab wounds. Believe me."

"Josiah—"

"After all, unless they're chained up, which…" Josiah's expression pinched. "…they may be. It's likely all for show. I'm sure the people in there are not really being held against their will. Bat boys, bearded ladies, creatures from a black lagoon—"

"I only—"

"Then again, I have seen people truly in dire straits in these sorts of places before. But helping them only seemed to bring greater harm…"

"Josiah, honestly, I only—"

"It will lead to no good, even if those people really do need help. And what are we but lost souls ourselves, seeking redemption through what we believe to be good deeds, when, in fact, we could very well be only making things worse. What evils—"

"Oh hell, you're in it now, aren't you," Nathan said. "Can you even hear me anymore?"

"—and trials are we to overcome, in order to bring salvation and, yes, kindness—"

"It's a quarter to get in. Do you have a quarter?"

That finally brought Josiah to a stop, and he looked at Nathan, stricken.

"You are so lucky I don't waste all my money on roofing tiles that I drop off the roof and break every other week," Nathan said, grabbing Josiah's arm and steering him towards the "Freaks" tent. "I've got enough for both of us."

Josiah grinned as he let himself be led. "You truly are a godsend, Nathan."

"You're buying me a drink later, is what you're doing," Nathan replied as he fished the money out and handed it to the man. A moment later, they were ducking under the tent-flap into the cool interior and into a haze of smoke so thick, both men started hacking so hard that Josiah fell to his knees…

 **Chapter 5: Animals**

A soft breeze whispered across the nape of JD's neck. Dunne shook his leg in irritation.

"Com'n, let go. I've got to find the others." His voice had a tinge of a whine, interlaced with frustration. It would have been embarrassing if one of the other seven were with him.

JD quickly peered around the tented area, trying to catch a glimpse of his friends between sun-bleached, purplish tents. Small plumes of powdery dust billowed from under his stuttering boots as he turned in an unbalanced circle, crunching wilted grass.

Shots rang out near the shooting gallery, putting him on edge for a moment until he realized – shooting gallery.

An old man leaned against a pole, chin to chest, content to chew on a sprig of grass. JD stared at him a moment, taking in his tri-corn hat, the eyepatch, the sash. Pirate, he decided - not a very convincing one either. Seeing a pirate here might have been a concern, but they were at a carnival, after all.

The misplaced pirate gave JD and his snarling tag-a-long no mind.

The terrier tugged with increased determination. It scratched for purchase in withered grass and dust. The breeze did nothing to subdue its raised hackles. The scarred, little one-eyed terrier simply bared its teeth and jerked its head side to side with spine snapping force.

"Cut it out. I got to go." Dunne shook his leg quickly glancing down at the small monster that attached itself to him.

From the corner of his eye, JD caught a fleeting glimpse of potential flying bodies disappearing over a tiny fence between gaming stands where the shooting had been heard. He furrowed his brow.

 _Was that Vin and Ezra?_ Were they wrestling the bearded lady? Or was it a muzzled brown bear?

Chris was going to be angry if those two caused a ruckus again.

Dunne dragged his leg forward trying for a better vantage point.

The terrier snarled and sank back in the opposite direction with ill intent.

Down the lane, Dunne caught a glimpse of a moccasin boot, and a hairy limb in pantaloons. He squinted trying to make sense of the partially obstructed sighting.

Was the bear or bearded lady wearing pantaloons? JD couldn't remember.

Through the meandering crowds, he saw Chris stalk down a dusty path, disappearing between tents. JD started to holler to him, get his attention, but paused. Larabee seemed ill-tempered at the moment. Dunne shrugged, Chris should get a drink and relax, try having some fun.

The old fake pirate leaned against the splinted pole, his worn booted foot resting flush again the wood. The wilted piece of straw drooped from chapped lips. "Storm's rolling in…" The old timer twirled the end of his mustache, "gunna be a big one."

JD peered off to the north, into the soft breeze. Blue skies slowly ebbed to black on the horizon.

 **Chapter 6: A Cry for Help**

"Help!" Ezra cried as the hairy thing latched onto his collar. He threw a desperate look to Tanner, but instead of helping, Vin was skittering away with wide eyes.

"Give it up!" Bobo the Wildman from the Wilds of West WalloWallo growled through his thicket of beard and tangled mop. "Give it!" He was all hair, bone-necklace and pantaloons - shaking Standish with filthy hands.

"I … don't… have… it!" Ezra got out through clattering teeth. "Buck…"

Vin was on his feet, reaching for his mare's leg and damning himself, knowing it was gone. He didn't want to chance messing with the creature. Bobo would have been hideous if not for the colorful pantaloons.

"You let go of him!" Tanner said, shaking a finger at the wild man, but not getting closer. "We got no argument with you!" There was something unnatural about a man - all that hair and wearing a tiny woman's flowered hat.

Bobo stilled and Ezra looked relieved that the rattling had ceased. The creature gave Vin a look and said, "Jimmy Sureshot doesn't like you."

"Help!" Buck's voice sounded as he stumbled out of the pie-judging tent, tripping over Bobo and Ezra, and nearly piling into Vin. Cherry pie-filling and whipped cream coated his face. Crumbs dusted his mustache. Chocolate cream globbed onto one hand and his shirt was stained with a dozen different colors of pie filling. His eyes glanced upon the men who'd tripped him.

He instantly discounted any help from Ezra as he was rather occupied at the moment - Bobo had gone back to shaking him like a maraca.

So, Buck latched onto Vin.

"Vin! Help a brother! Josiah abandoned me with all those women and all those pies! I only had time to taste one pie and that baker came after me! Blame Josiah! He put me up to it!" He turned as the covey of women stormed out of the tent – all of them with floured aprons, armed with rolling pins and squashed pies.

"All my hard work!"

"He destroyed them all!"

"He done rested his rump on my sugar pie!"

"My flan is flattened!"

"He ruin't my black bottom!"

Buck gave Vin one fruity and desperate look, his mouth pressed to a thin line. Seeing no help coming from him, he ran – right into the gunmen.

 **Chapter 7: Learning to Fly**

A line of angry carnies crowded between the tents, cutting the Four Corners lawmen off from the main fairgrounds. They'd tossed aside the rigged pea shooters. Instead, they brandished guns, knives and a few of those oversized mallets a man could use to pound a tent peg — or a lawman — into the ground.

Buck careened into the line and ricocheted back, narrowly ducking a mallet swing. He stumbled back into the hunched, monstrous bulk of Bobo and somersaulted across his hairy back, knocking off the wild man's flowery hat and sending it flying.

Bobo let out an animal howl, clutching at his head in dismay. He whirled, reaching desperately, but a breeze had caught the frilly hat, whirling up and soaring off above the fairgrounds. The wild man took off in pursuit, leaving Ezra flattened and forgotten in the dust.

Buck landed with a bone-jarring thump that hurt a lot less than it should have. Belatedly, he remembered the object Ezra had passed to him after Vin's triumph at the shooting gallery. He was supposed to stash it someplace safe, but pie, pretty bakers and Josiah were beckoning, so he'd stuffed it down the back of his trousers instead.

Ezra sat up with a pained groan, scooting back to get some distance from the angry gunmen and bakers who hemmed them in.

Both groups were closing in. The carnies glared at Vin. The pie ladies hefted their ruined wares, scowling down at Buck.

"You got this coming," hissed Jimmy Sureshot, a rabbity little man who looked barely strong enough to heft the rifle that was currently pointing dead center at Vin's forehead. "You low-down, sneak of a—"

"PIE MURDERER!" one of the bakers shrieked. A volley of flattened pies arced through the air. A shot rang out and a pie plate shattered in mid-flight, raining ceramic shrapnel and cherry pulp down on everyone below.

The pie ladies shrieked and bolted as more shots rang out.

 **Chapter 8: The Best Defense is a Good Offense**

Chris lowered his gun, the barrel still smoking from the shot he'd used to shatter the thrown pie. "What the hell is going on here!" he shouted at the stunned crowd. While the women had fled, the carnies were still very much present, still gripping their various weaponry. But, where they'd looked murderous before, now they merely looked confused.

One of them, a man in a hideously green striped jacket and a straw boatman's hat, limped forward. A bloody bandage was wrapped around his thigh, just above the knee.

"What's it to you?" he demanded in a reedy voice.

"These men are with me," Chris replied, gesturing at Vin, the mildly swaying Buck, and the groaning and supine Ezra. "Makes 'em my responsibility. What've they done?"

The man in the green striped jacket stared at Chris with beady eyes, his scraggly beard shifting on his face as he chewed on something. He seemed to be measuring him.

"You're Chris Larabee," he said finally, black liquid dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. "Ain't ya? The gunslinger?" He wiped the guck off his beard with the back of his hand.

"I am," Chris said, lip curling slightly.

"Yer supposed to be fast."

"Supposed to be," Chris agreed. "You wanna find out?"

The men behind the carnie shifted, uncertain. The one who'd been talking, though, just bared a set of black and yellow teeth in what might be called a smile. Chris's lip curled even more.

"Just tell me why you're after my men," Chris demanded.

"Him." The man pointed at Buck. "We don't care about him. The woman are riled with him for some reason, probably related to the contest his friend got him to judge. And him." Here he pointed at Ezra. "We don't much care about him either, 'ceptin' he's with that feller." He pointed at Vin. "Bobo, though," he gestured to the wild man. "I think he's got a problem with the dandy."

"Chris—" Vin began, only to have Chris raise a hand. Vin pressed his lips together firmly, clearly not pleased.

"Now that one," the carnie pointed at Vin again. "Him we're gonna kill."

Chris's eye narrowed. "Why?"

"Because I'm Jimmy Sureshot, and he—"

"FIRE!" someone shouted from not far away. Suddenly there was screaming and shouting from what sounded like the opposite side of the fair. "FIRE! The Freak Tent is on Fire! We need help!"

 **Chapter 9: Be Prepared (Boy Scout motto)**

JD's head snapped up at 'Fire!' His head snapped up, eyes wide. He searched the immediate area and then spotted smoke a few tents away. The strange pirate frowned and abruptly left him alone with the dog.

Black smoke billowed and rolled stretching black plumes into the sky.

"Oh my Gosh," He tried to jerk his leg free of the little terrier. He could hear panicked screams and few deeper voices shouting for calm across the tent-strewn grass clearing.

Dunne shook his leg with more vigor, "Let go little dog!" He jerked his foot forward in an attempt to dislodge the snarling terrier. The dog's four feet left the ground as it arched to the left but it held fast to the cuffed pant hem.

JD kept his eyes on the smoke as he laboriously started to wind his way between tents, dodging stakes and lines.

The terrier dragged behind and beside him, jerking its head left and right, struggling for purchase in an attempt to stop the sheriff.

JD broke into small clearing. He paused for a moment near the ticket booth and again shook his leg.

"Stop it! I've got to help my friends," JD implored to the tenacious creature.

He could see flames now, but the tent was still obscured from sight by other attractions.

Between the tents, Dunne could see the stream of panicked carnival goers and employees racing to escape the smoke and reaching flames. On the far side of the fair, the rollercoaster had stopped clattering away. The calliope of the carousel was silenced.

"Oh Gosh, I hope Buck and the others are okay," He muttered quietly to himself. Then, in a more panicked afterthought, it struck him, what if Ezra was involved with the fire?

Oh God, Oh God. Dunne's heart raced with uncontrolled panic. The District Attorney would kill him. JD knew he shouldn't have listened to Ezra. JD knew he shouldn't have entrusted Ezra with something so valuable and important. He knew it! _Why did he listen to Ezra?! The DA entrusted him! Not Ezra!_

"Let go!" JD jerked his foot trying to dislodge the fierce little dog. The terrier snarled with renewed vigor.

Dunne's attention was drawn away from his pant leg as a colorful crowd of costumed figures streamed and gurgled by, rolling with panic. A bearded, full-figured person lumbered by carrying what appeared to be a tiny two-headed woman. Hunched figures, tall thin knobby jointed persons, short squat figures, all lumbered by at varied tottering pace. JD furrowed his brow at what appeared to be a tentacle individual loping amongst the throng.

Streams of town folk and tourist alike ran past. Two figures seemed familiar.

"Josiah? Nathan?" Dunne whispered as the two were pushed by. Nathan appeared to be fighting the current of escaping people, working against the tide, while Josiah tugged him further back from the yet unseen burning tent.

The smell of smoke wafted toward Dunne on the growing breeze. Orange and blue flames shot above the purple peaked tents. The flames bent and twisted in the northern breeze.

Across the drying prairie grass, dark clouds boiled and rolled over one another heading for the carnival.

 **Chapter 10: Laundry Day**

"Fire!"

Everyone between the shooting gallery and the pie-judging tent froze. All around them echoed the sounds of panic. The Forbidden Planet Carnival was on fire.

"Good God," one of the carnie's muttered. "This whole place is going to burn!" For a moment, they looked at each other – almost accusingly. Then, the first one took off, hopefully to start a bucket brigade with most of the crew behind him.

Sureshot paused. He glared at Vin. He gestured with his empty hand as if he had a weapon. He popped one off at Vin. "You'll get yours," he growled and limped after the rest of them. He moved with surprising speed, in spite of his injury.

It was, apparently, not a life threatening wound.

Vin narrowed his gaze as he spotted his mare's leg slung over that man's back. "I'll be back," he uttered, running after the departing carnies, getting caught up in the flow of panicked people.

Chris looked around in surprise to find himself suddenly alone with Ezra and Buck in the passageway. Buck grabbed an offered handkerchief from Ezra and started wiping off his face, trying to remove the layer of fruity pie filling. He looked suspiciously bruised under the camouflage of cherry and whipped cream.

"This is Vin's fault," Ezra grumbled as he struggled to get up. "Vin and the DA. I blame them both." He still looked a little flattened, and sprigs of straw festooned his hair. "They were right when they named this place 'the Forbidden Planet'. I should have heeded that warning." He glanced at Buck, and scowled. "I expect to get that handkerchief back - cleaned." He frowned as he noted the condition of his clothing, all ground into the dirt. "Deplorable," he muttered. "It will all need to be laundered."

Chris kept his gaze in the direction of the panic. "Let's get moving," he declared.

When Ezra gained his feet, he asked Buck, "Do you still have it?"

Buck nodded, reaching for the back of his trousers. "Is this the thing that the DA needed delivered?"

Chris gave Buck a startled look and then turned the gaze on Ezra. "Ezra, I gave that to JD for safekeeping."

"He was keeping it in a pocket that was easily picked," Ezra said with annoyance.

Chris wasn't impressed. "So you took it from him?"

Buck pulled the split-seamed toy bunny from his pants, giving Ezra a wry look.

Ezra smiled broadly. "Pity that Bobo didn't find you. I'm sure he'd have words."

Chris shook his head. Grabbing one of Ezra's arms, he snapped, "Enough of this! There's a fire. We've got to get people out of here! We'll talk about this later." His statement was edged in a darkness that stated the discussion would be an intense one.

Buck and Ezra nodded resolutely and turned toward the sound of the commotion. Smoke was billowing over the tents and it was only a matter of time before all of the carnival would be consumed. Sooty bits of canvas were in the air. The shouting around them increased in volume.

They started out of the passageway and almost cleared it when an arm shot out of the pie tent, clothes-lining Wilmington.

Buck went down like a sack of laundry. Chris tried to grab him before he hit the ground, failed, and then snapped his head up as the biggest baker they'd ever seen stepped clear of the tent. The man stood, placing one hand on each of his hips as he stared down at the heap that was Wilmington.

"Not enough sugar?" he cried. "How dare he disparage my Lemon Surprise!" He turned his furious look on the other two. "How dare he!"

 **Chapter 11: Cascading Failures**

Larabee barely broke stride, plowing straight into the aggrieved baker and sending him flying. Ezra stretched out a leg and tripped the off-balance giant, who collided with the saggy canvas wall of the pie-judging tent with enough force to collapse the entire structure.

There was a crunch of snapping support beams, mingled with high-pitched shrieks and the sound of even more crockery smashing inside.

Larabee stomped onward into the swirling smoke and confusion of the fairgrounds. Ezra cast a wary glance at the heaving tangle of canvas that cocooned the baker, then reached down, hauled a dazed Buck to his feet, and followed after.

"Only 'surprise' was how much that dish tasted like sawdust," Buck muttered, massaging his bruised jaw.

The Forbidden Planet Carnival had been set up in an open meadow on the outskirts of Cedar Ridge. Through the swirling smoke they could see the ominous glow of at least three burning tents. Gusting winds caught the sparks and sent them tumbling onto the hay floor of the livestock-judging ring. Flames caught and spread, licking up the side of a booth hawking fried chicken and lemonade. Townsfolk were forming into a ragged bucket brigade that stretched in a thin, ineffective line back to the wells in Cedar Ridge.

Larabee paused, his gaze shifting from the flames to the spot where Vin had just vanished around a corner, still in pursuit of Sureshot. He turned his glare on Ezra, who was swiping ineffectively at the cherry-stained handprints Buck had wiped on his sleeve.

"This was not my fault," Ezra said.

Buck snorted.

 _Not half an hour earlier_

It had been Ezra's idea, of course. But it was Buck who talked Vin into it.

"Waste of money," Vin muttered again, reluctantly handing over two bits to the greasy carny in the ugly striped jacket who ran the shooting booth. "Game's rigged. Can't trust the sights on these little popguns."

The game operator shot Vin an unfriendly look and slid a battered rifle across the counter. Vin sighed, rested his mare's leg on the pitted countertop, and took up the rickety weapon instead.

The carny stooped and began turning a mechanical crank on the side of the booth. There was a rusty clatter and suddenly a parade of pockmarked tin duck targets began a slow march along the metal tracks at the back of the booth. The ducks jittered and twirled, back and forth, up and down, in time with the turning crank.

"What better test of your aim and acumen?" Ezra called out, raising his voice slightly as he added: "Why, I'd lay money that six shots are all you'd need to knock down six targets."

A few passersby stopped in their tracks, then reached for their wallets.

Buck took time out from flirting with a cluster of pretty young ladies cradling fresh-baked pies to lean in and clout Vin across the shoulder.

"See if you can win one of those little fluffy bunnies, pard," he said, nodding toward a line of shabby, dusty stuffed animals on the booth's prize shelf. "The ladies love it when you win 'em a prize at the fair."

Buck tipped his hat as the pie bakers made their way, giggling, into the neighboring tent.

Vin rolled his eyes and took aim.

He fired — and missed.

There were a few derisive hoots from the gathering crowd. Scowling, Vin fired again, and missed again.

From somewhere back in the crowd, JD piped up. "This is boring. If we wanted to watch Vin shoot at stuff, we could have stayed home." The kid was balancing greasy fried chicken drumsticks in each hand and trying to fend off a scruffy little terrier that was circling his feet, staring at the snack with unblinking intensity.

"True enough, brother," he heard Josiah's rumbled reply. "Of course, watching Vin shoot at something and fail to hit it is a bit more of a novelty. Still, I could be persuaded to step over to the next tent. The pie judging's about to start—"

Vin fired two more times, and missed two more times. His fifth shot nicked the edge of one of the tin ducks. It wobbled, but didn't fall. Voices in the crowd were calling for Ezra to pay up. Vin nodded slightly, satisfied that he'd figured out how to compensate for the off-kilter sights and warped gun barrel.

He squeezed off his last round, and the tin duck slammed backward, sporting a fresh dent, center mass.

Vin turned to see that Nathan and Josiah had wandered off somewhere. Ezra and JD were caught up in an intense conversation while Buck doled out a stack of Ezra's money to the happy winners.

Suddenly, JD yelped and stumbled backward, swatting at Ezra with the drumsticks he still clutched in each hand. The little terrier yipped and launched into a vertical leap that nearly succeeded in separating JD from one of the drumsticks and several of his fingers. Distracted, JD flinched back from the bouncing dog while Ezra smoothly moved his hand into the pocket of his jacket.

JD shot Ezra a frustrated look, and then stomped away.

The little dog followed.

Ezra pivoted to face the crowd. He grinned broadly and nodded to Buck, who held up a fresh stack of dollar bills.

"That was hardly a fair test of our friend's shooting prowess," Ezra said, smiling wide enough to show off a gleam of gold tooth. "The sun was in his eyes. What say we raise the stakes?"

A few in the crowd squinted up at the overcast sky, where thunderclouds were gathering on the horizon. They reached eagerly for their wallets again.

Ugly-jacket approached, trying to swap out Vin's gun for one he'd pre-loaded. Vin tightened his grip, snagged a box of ammunition from the counter and reloaded himself. The carny's scowl darkened and he spit a stream of chewing tobacco close enough to Vin's toes to splash his boots.

Vin waited for Ezra to finish fleecing the locals, then flattened six tin ducks in rapid succession. Groans went up around the crowd as Buck and Ezra collected their winnings.

Scowling, the shooting booth operator snagged the smallest prize off the shelf — a stuffed bunny. He tossed it at Vin, who caught it easily and tucked it under one arm. He turned to go, ready to find the booth that was selling all that fried chicken, when the carny called out.

"Beginner's luck." The man had a voice as loud as his jacket and it carried to every corner of the gathered crowd. "Bet you couldn't do that again."

Wordlessly, Vin tossed the stuffed bunny to Ezra, and reloaded. Behind him, he could hear the shuffle of even more bills and coins changing hands. Ezra was definitely paying for lunch when all this was over.

Six more shots. Six more flattened ducks.

Ugly jacket slammed a calloused hand down on the counter, cutting Ezra off as he reached for the stack of bills the shooting booth operator had wagered against Vin.

"You cheated," the man snarled. "You ain't gettin' my money and you ain't keepin' that prize. Give it back!"

Ezra and Vin edged back from the ranting carny. Scowling roustabouts and other fairground workers were gathering, hemming them in, including a hairy nightmare of a man sporting a tiny, flowery hat. Vin glanced around, realizing that Buck was missing now too — and that the angry man in the ugly jacket was holding the mare's leg Vin had left on the booth's counter.

"Admit you cheated, and give me back that prize!" the carny snapped. His eyes were wild, but his grip on the weapon was steady and sure.

Ezra raised his hands agreeably; one twitch of the wrist away from triggering the hidden derringer and ventilating the nearest carny's skull.

"Regrettably, that remarkable prize is no longer in my possession. Perhaps another test of skill could settle this dispute? Double or noth—"

Ugly-jacket leveled the mare's leg at Ezra with the speed of a striking snake.

Vin was faster. A muffled pop sent their attacker to the ground, howling and clutching his bleeding leg. Vin tossed the pop gun aside in disgust. It wasn't the leg he'd been aiming for.

Together, he and Ezra dove for cover in the shooting gallery as bullets began flying.

"Explain later," Larabee said flatly, stalking away from Ezra and heading toward the nearest bucket brigade. Buck shrugged and followed, limping. He scanned the milling crowd, expecting to see Josiah, Nathan and JD in the crowd of helpers. They were nowhere to be seen.

Ezra huffed out a small laugh as he spotted the toy bunny head peeking out of Buck's coat pocket. The laugh cut off in a gasp as something hit him hard enough to leave him breathless.

He looked down and saw a knife handle protruding from his jacket.

TBC


	2. Part 2

**PART 2:**

 **Chapter 12: Thin Ice**

Ezra landed hard on the ground, the pain of the knife sticking out of his side, just above his hip, quickly making itself known after the initial shock. He gasped, as if he'd been holding his breath, and looked around for help.

There was none to be found. Chris and Buck had gone to help with the fire, Vin after his mare's leg, Josiah and Nathan and JD nowhere in sight, and everyone else at the fair occupied either with putting the fire out or clearing up the chaos.

"Oh dear," he muttered, realized just how effectively this situation had arisen. Seven men had come to the fair, all guarding the singular piece of evidence that could set free a man unjustly accused of murder—a priceless, one of a kind amethyst necklace with a blue diamond centerpiece. It was a masterpiece in purple, with a masterfully thin, delicate gold chain holding it together and a nearly-round, bluish diamond at the center – the Blue Moon. Now, with almost no effort, all seven had been split up, fully distracted by the goings on that, in hindsight, were likely all planned.

Leaving Ezra alone.

And bleeding. A lot.

He pressed his hands around the knife, trying to forestall the flow of blood, and then tried to call out, but the intake of breath hurt too much. All he managed was a weak, "help."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a pair of red heels sashay towards him, followed by an old pair of boots that had clearly seen better years. He looked up as the woman got closer, and frowned to find himself the study of a petite, redheaded woman, a pale yellow snake around her neck. Behind her, an old man chewing on a piece of straw, and dressed like a pirate – or perhaps someone's vision of a swashbuckler. The pirate smiled slightly at Ezra and raised a rifle to point directly at Ezra's head.

"How do you like my show?" the woman asked with a purr. "Better than the last one I gave you, sugah?"

And, instantly, Ezra knew who she was. Under the carnival makeup and the bright red wig was Sarah Heisenberg, one of the richest women in the west—and supposedly murdered three weeks ago in Clarke's Town, Texas by her husband. If JD hadn't spotted her in Four Corners recently, she might have gotten away with it, too. She'd escaped when they'd tried to catch her, but she'd left behind the necklace—The Blue Moon - her signature piece of jewelry, and the evidence that would forestall her husband's hanging in three days' time.

"Your last show had style," Ezra said, coughing liquidly. "This one seems a little coarse." The previous show she'd "given" had been what allowed her to escape Four Corners.

"Perhaps, but I'd say this one was far more colorful. Hell, it's practically on fire! Everywhere you look, you can see all sorts of reds, oranges, yellows…" She offered a sickly smile with obvious false teeth as she knelt in front of him, her hand reaching to touch the knife handle. "But, I like red in particular." She said, pressing on the handle, and causing Ezra to howl. He grabbed at her wrist to stop her, only to feel the snake sink its fangs into his skin. The snake let go and Ezra pulled his arm to his chest.

"Don't worry, sugah," she said as he stared in horror at the bite wound. "Baby here isn't poisonous." She petted the snake. "At least as far as I know. He's really just on loan."

Ezra glared at her, knowing he was crying in pain now, but unwilling to give her the satisfaction of it.

"Tell you what," Sarah said then. "You tell me where the necklace is that you took from the boy, and I'll make sure your friends know that you need help. What do you say?"

Ezra swallowed, desperately trying to think of a stall. First thing that came to mind was: "I don't know where it is."

"You were seen taking it from the boy," she said in reply to his lie, her voice still syrupy, but now with an edge. "That means you know where it is."

"I gave it away."

"To whom?"

"To the Texas District Attorney we were sent here to meet. You're too late."

Her eyebrows lifted, momentarily surprised, and then she started to laugh. The old pirate laughed as well.

"Please," she said, pressing a hand to her chest as if to still the laughter. "If I hadn't seen that man and the rangers with him murdered a few hours ago by my men, I might have believed you." Her head tilted, like a mother amused by the antics of her baby. Her smile fell completely. "But I did see him murdered. Which means you're lying." She grabbed at his jacket. "Now where is my _necklace_? I want the Blue Moon, now."

Ezra felt the derringer on his arm, but also clearly saw the rifle barrel directed right at his face by the old man. He was stuck. He needed a way out, but his mind was so befuddled by pain that he just couldn't think of one.

What the hell was he going to do?

 **Chapter 13: Without a Paddle**

A muffled explosion rumbled and vibrated the air. The ground quivered. A ball of flames rocketed into the sky. Screams echoed and people flowed by JD with increased speed.

Panic saturated the air.

"Oh my gosh," JD exclaimed. He tilted his head back, keeping his hand on his hat watching stronger flames flicker upward. "Nathan, Josiah. I got to help the others," JD whispered to himself. He shook his leg one last time in an attempt to dislodge the terrible creature. He garnered no success and took off between tents.

The terrier snarled and jerked about, attempting to disrupt Dunne's hitching pace. The small dog passed around stakes and tent lines, leaping sideways, twisting left and right with unparalleled agility.

JD wove and weaved his way between tents. He broke into an open alley. People streamed past in harried panic. Across the lane, and a few tents over, the fire blazed - seemingly unchecked. JD forced his way across the torrent of panicked carnival goers, smoothly shoving people forward and backward rolling and skimming his way toward the fire and growing black smoke.

The terrier kept its grip.

JD zigged and zagged around canvas structures, shaky, wood pole corrals and small stacks of hastily baled straw.

The white, black spotted terrier bounced and careened over obstacles, never loosening his grip.

As JD drew near the flames, heat permeated the area in shimmering vertical waves that obscured structures in front of him. He held his hands to his face and tucked his chin behind his shoulder as he twisted away from the heat.

"Oh Gosh, oh Gosh". Dunne tried to shoulder his way forward through the curtain of heat, toward the wall of flame. His eyes watered and reflexively closed as walls of heat and smoke pulsed over him.

Bodies lay scattered on the ground amongst moving figures. All seemed bent and wilted away from the heat and smoke. Amongst the unmoving, a long dark figure lay sprawled on his back, a dark calloused hand flung outward and unmoving. JD watched with streaming, squinting eyes as a bigger, older figure crawled toward the dark figure.

Nathan? Josiah?

A tiny explosion sent smoke and flame suddenly ballooning toward JD forcing him back a step, forcing his eyes closed as he shielded himself from the charring heat.

JD cursed. He attempted to move forward, shielding his face with his up raised arms.

The terrier held fast. He moved, inched toward the down figures, toward his friends, toward the towering flames but a searing blast of heat washed over him in the building breeze.

JD was forced backward, twisting closer to the ground.

The terrier crouched low behind JD's heel, silent hiding from the heat, but relentless in its tenacity.

JD absently patted the dog in an attempt to soothe his own racing emotions. The terrier yanked on his pant leg in response.

Movement to his left grabbed JD's attention. A squat black hat rolled on its rim in the breeze across dried grass. He recognized the hatband. JD focused on the hat and then noticed the prone body a few yards away, nestled between two tightly placed tents. More importantly, JD noticed the knife, then the gun and finally yellow snake-decorated villain threatening his friend.

 **Chapter 14:** **I was the Boy to Brave the Dark (Oysterband)**

At the sound of the explosion, Nathan dove forward. The thick scent of TNT surrounded him as dirt rained down. It stunned him for a moment, but he was up and moving again, determined.

Josiah made a desperate grab for his friend, but Nathan evaded him, disappearing again into the tent. With a groan, Josiah went in after him.

Had someone stored explosives here at the carnival? It made no sense. Was someone deliberately setting off charges?

"Nathan!" Josiah shouted as forced his way deeper into the Freak Show tent. "Nathan!" he was choking on the smoke. Quickly, he lost Nathan in the maze of stalls and cubicles, and he was beginning to fear that he'd be unable to find his way out again. He reached and grasped hold of something. In the haze, it seemed to be some sort of a huge oyster shell – part of a stage for the band. He kept moving.

He could hear someone coughing nearby. Forcing himself toward the sound, he stumbled through the black haze, falling to his knees. "Nathan!" he shouted again.

He never should have left that pie tent. To think, right now he could be surrounded by pies and beautiful women - breathing sweet air. Why did he pawn the judging off on Buck?

Because Nathan had that look – Josiah had recognized it. Nathan was hot on the trail of the Freak Tent, and as soon as he found it, nothing would stop him from getting in, even now with everything on fire.

Flames licked at the periphery of his vision, but around him, the smoke swirled thick and dark and impenetrable. He kept crawling forward, desperate to find his indefatigable friend.

He could hardly breathe. "Nathan!" he choked out as he reached through the blackness, toward the coughing sound. His hand clasped on a booted ankle, and he pulled himself toward it.

"Nathan," he choked. "We have to get out."

He felt along the leg, ready to get Nathan to his feet. When his hand traveled further, he jerked back, gasping when he found a handful of thick skirt and petticoats. He was manhandling a woman.

She jerked under his touch, surprised.

In the blackness, he could see nothing.

"Sorry," he gasped, "But we have to get out of here." He helped her to sit up, and then to get onto her hands and knees. She was coughing hard, a rough smoke-choked cough.

Josiah helped guide her toward what once was the exit. He could see the hopeful light through the darkness.

Smoke swirled thickly here, forcing itself through the opening. Josiah kept his hand on the woman, pushing her onward.

Nathan. Where was Nathan? He looked furtively over his shoulder, hoping to see his friend, hoping to see anything. There was nothing but an opaque veil of smoke behind him.

He'd get the woman out and then go back.

Suddenly - after the blackness, the heat and the choking air - they tumbled out into the daylight.

They were both gasping and coughing, trying to clear the smoke from their lungs. Josiah wiped at his eyes as he took a deep draught of air, only to cough it out. Air, delicious air.

He glanced back at the tent. It was all smoke and blackness. Orange flames licked the canvas. It was being consumed. It would be gone in another minute.

Nathan.

He had to go back.

He turned to the woman to tell her that everything was going to be okay, and was momentarily stunned to silence.

At first, he thought her face was coated with soot, but that image was swept away. She was scaled, her face covered with a rough, dark, horny layer of skin.

He blinked and looked away. "I have to…" he started, turning back to the tent, when a form staggered out.

Nathan rolled for a moment, as if afraid that he was on fire. When he came up, he was facing Josiah. A look of relief immediately reached him. When he glanced to the woman, his mouth opened in a surprised grin.

He coughed and then called, "Ginny!" And he crawled to the crocodile-skinned woman.

She was still fighting to draw breath. It was getting easier as she hacked out the bad air, but the moment she looked up to see Nathan, she gasped in delight. She opened arms, and Nathan gathered her up.

"Oh, Nathan," she said sweetly. "I'm so happy to see you."

 **Chapter 15: Burnout**

Vin flattened himself against the side of a booth, fighting back the cough that was clawing at his throat. The wind had shifted, sending acrid smoke billowing his way. He squinted through the haze, wishing Chris and the others would appear and knowing they wouldn't, not while half the fair was on fire and half the town was running around in blind panic.

But he could sure use Ezra and his stash of extra weaponry right about now.

Vin glanced down at his current weapon — an oversized mallet he'd snagged from an abandoned strongman game. He'd seen fairgoers taking wild swings with it earlier in the day, trying to ring a bell at the top of a tall pole. He hefted it experimentally, picturing Jimmy Sureshot's face on the receiving end.

He risked another glance around the corner, eyes narrowing as he watched the rival sharpshooter's odd behavior. Sureshot had paused outside a rickety wooden storage shed, ignoring the fire and growing chaos around him as he argued with a group of harried-looking carnies.

"What the hell, Earl?" Sureshot gave a shove to a hulking roustabout who was carrying a heavy burlap sack, almost as big as himself, slung over one shoulder. The blow had about as much effect on the big man as slapping a brick wall. "You were supposed to light the place up tonight! After dark! So it'd look like an accident with the lamps!"

Earl ducked his head and looked sheepish. "Boss's orders," he said, nodding toward the distant glow of burning tents and the panicked throng. "Way too many law dogs crawling around the place right now, she said."

"Pirate Pete's already setting off explosives?" Sureshot added.

Earl shrugged, no mean feat with the bag on his shoulder. "I think the fire just got to some of his stash."

With an aggravated gesture, Sureshot stepped aside and waved the big man toward the shed. Earl yanked the door open and tossed his bundle inside. It landed with a meaty thump.

Sureshot grabbed a glowing lantern from one of the waiting carnies and smashed it against the side of the wooden shed. The burning lamp oil spattered the wooden structure and caught, licking hungrily up the wooden planks. Sureshot shot a suspicious glance around and Vin ducked back behind cover.

By the time he looked out again, the shed was ablaze and Sureshot was on the move. Vin scrambled toward the shed. The flames hadn't reached the door yet, but sparks scalded his hands as he wrenched it open. Coughing, he reached down and grabbed the object Earl had tossed inside.

He yanked, trying to drag it clear of the blaze, but only succeeded in ripping the burlap.

A hand tumbled loose from the torn fabric, cold and still. Vin widened the tear in the burlap, revealing a stranger with the leathery face of an outdoorsman. There was a bullet hole dead-center in the man's forehead - and a Texas Ranger star pinned to his coat.

Swearing, Vin reeled back from the dead ranger, gasping for air, his mind racing. The last thing he needed was to get caught standing over another dead Texan. One bounty on his head was enough.

What the hell were the Texans doing here so soon, anyway? They weren't due to arrive in town until this evening, to meet up with JD and Larabee and examine the evidence. By then, Vin was supposed to be well on his way back to Four Corners. If he'd known the district attorney was bringing rangers with him, he would've stayed home.

There was movement in the distance, and Vin spotted Sureshot again, trailed this time by a pair of scrawny carnival workers with another burlap sack slung between them.

This bundle was kicking and squirming.

Vin started to follow, when something fluttered before his eyes, blown by the storm winds bearing down on the unlucky fair. Without thinking, he reached out a hand and caught it.

It was a tiny, flowery hat.

Footsteps thundered up behind him. Vin whirled to find the Wildman of West WalloWallo bearing down on him like a frantic, furry tumbleweed. Bobo skidded to a halt and stood panting, staring at the hat in Vin's hand with desperate intensity.

Vin stood with the hat in one hand and the strongman mallet in the other. Slowly, he stretched out a hand, offering the hat back to its owner.

A snaggle-toothed grin broke through the tangled mat of hair on Bobo's face. His beady eyes twinkled under his receding forehead as he launched himself at Vin, pancaking the hat between them in a bone-cracking hug. The handle of the mallet snapped like a twig between them.

"Much obliged!" Bobo crowed, releasing Vin and tugging up his flowery pantaloons, which had begun to sag dangerously. He settled the hat back on his head at a jaunty angle. "I owe you one, pard!"

Vin took a cautious step backward, tossing the shattered mallet aside. "My pleasure," he said, shooting a glance toward the fast-moving fugitives with their suspicious burden. "How 'bout you go help out with the fire and we'll call it even?"

Bobo nodded enthusiastically. Before Vin could say anything more, the wild man grabbed a burning plank from the shed and tossed it toward a neighboring tent, which immediately began to smolder.

"No, wait—" Vin began, but Bobo had already grabbed another makeshift torch and was running down a row of tents, poking his torch at anything that looked flammable.

Vin glanced up, hoping for rain while there was still something left of Cedar Ridge and its fairgrounds. Lightning flashed, and thunder rumbled close behind. The sky was taking on an ominous greenish cast. Vin sprinted after Sureshot.

He caught up to the group on the outskirts of town. The two undersized carnies were hauling their struggling cargo into the root cellar of a dilapidated building that looked like it had been abandoned for years. Vin slowed, painfully aware that he was standing in the open, back-lit by the fires of the burning fairgrounds.

He took a step closer, only to collapse to his knees as something cracked against the back of his skull. The last thing he saw, as the ground tilted crazily under him, was Sureshot, grinning down at him as the first drops of rain began to fall.

When Vin opened his eyes again, he was sitting on the dirt floor of a low-ceilinged root cellar, roped to a wooden support beam. He blinked, and slowly a second face swam into focus in the dim light. A middle-aged man with keen eyes and a handlebar mustache sat tied to a neighboring pillar, with a bloody bandage wrapped around his shoulder.

The stranger spit out the grubby kerchief someone had shoved in his mouth and introduced himself.

"District Attorney Leander Matthews." The Texan's drawl was hoarse, but still carried the authority of a man used to getting his own way.

Matthews squinted back at Vin. "Your face seems familiar," he said. "Have I seen you somewhere before?"

 **Chapter 16: Stone Circles or Cairns**

"Where is it?" she screamed in his face again, Ezra already blinking a bit muzzily from the pain. She was shaking him, and it hurt. It really hurt. He just wanted it to stop.

"Buck…" he said finally. "Buck has it. Please…"

She stopped shaking him and studied his face for a long moment. "That stuffed toy," she said. "I saw you give it to that other man." She nodded and let go, and he slumped forward.

"Kill him," she ordered.

"HEY!" a voice shouted from nearby, and Ezra couldn't help but smile. "Let him go!"

Ezra looked up as JD, both pistols raised and pointed at the old pirate, stumbled into view, a terrier tight on his heel. Scratch that, it wasn't just on his heel, it was eating it.

The old man twisted to point the rifle at JD, and Heisenberg—still crouched down in front of Ezra—twisted her neck to look over her shoulder.

The derringer popped into his hand with a flick of his wrist and he had it pressed to her throat.

"Tell your man to drop his weapon," he snarled.

Heisenberg froze. Carefully, without moving her head, she said, "Dad, put your rifle down."

The old man growled, looked back at the two of them, and then did as he was told. By then, JD had reached them, despite his obviously tenacious handicap. The pirate whistled and the dog let go instantly, happily moving to stand at his master's side.

"Now what?" Heisenberg asked, her teeth gritted.

"Now you—"

Gunshots exploded out of nowhere, and JD gasped, falling to his knees.

"No!" Ezra shouted, he pointed the tiny gun towards the origin of the shots, popping off two bullets. In that time, Heisenberg had bounced back to her feet and was running off, her old man and his pet in tow. The rifle was left on the ground.

JD growled, rolled and bounced back up, shooting in the same direction as Ezra. They caught sight of an ugly green striped jacket ducking behind tent that was already half engulfed in flames. Smoke soon filled the gap between them—no one would be seeing through that.

The kid took advantage of the distraction to get his arms under Ezra's shoulders and haul him to his feet.

"Can you walk?" JD asked, glancing down at the knife and the blood before returning his attention to finding potential attackers. He had just one arm around Ezra now, and Ezra leaned into him heavily.

"With your help, yes." Ezra said. "But I'm not sure how far—"

"There's a circle of boulders on one side of the fair, near the carousel. It's not far," JD said, already moving and forcing Ezra to match his step. "You'll be safe inside there until I can get you help. The fire shouldn't get you there."

Ezra didn't question. He trusted JD.

The kid dragged him almost too quickly through a mess of tents, Ezra blinking back the pain and exhaustion the whole time until he lost all sense of his surroundings. Then, finally, he felt himself being lowered to the ground, his back being set to rest against a cool, sun bleached boulder stone. Similar large boulders surrounded him on all sides, and a tiny stream bubbled out and ran in a tiny rivulet next to him.

"Don't drink that," JD said, as if Ezra was stupid. "I'll get you water and Nathan. In the meantime…" He carefully pulled off his jacket, and ripped off one of his shirtsleeves. "Let go," he ordered.

Ezra released his hold of his wound around the still protruding knife handle. He watched as JD pressed the cloth around the knife and then pushed the cloth hard into Ezra's hip. Ezra gasped in pain, his eyes widening at the abruptness of it.

"Now you hold it, press as tight as you can, okay? You're still bleeding - not a lot, I don't think, but you need it to stop. Hold that…" He pressed Ezra's clearly reluctant hands against the cloth and pushed, until he obviously felt Ezra was keeping up the pressure up as best as he could. "Good, good." JD tried to smile, his pale face barely maintaining the façade as he carefully pulled on his jacket. "Now just sit tight and I'll—"

"JD, wait…" Ezra grasped at JD's lapel, drawing him down. JD winced a little at the motion, but dutifully got closer.

"Buck…I told her Buck had the necklace. The bunny. You have to warn him."

JD frowned. "What? Why does…? No, wait, I don't want to know. But I will. I'll tell 'em everything. That was her, wasn't it? And the people shooting at us, those were her bad guys?"

Ezra nodded weakly, and then leaned his head back, his eyes closing. When he'd seen the dog going after JD's food earlier, he'd thought it looked familiar-like one he'd seen in Four Corners when Heisenberg had been in town. He'd had an idea of how to better hide the necklace, just in case...

He hadn't, though, expected the knife.

He was ready for a nap. A nap would be good.

"I'll be back before you know it," JD promised. "Just don't die, okay? Don't die."

Ezra tried to smile, opening his eyes again to reassure the kid. "Don't worry, my survival instincts are still very much present," he said. JD's smile widened, and with a nod, he was up and limping away. Ezra frowned at the shredded pants leg, and then looked up just as JD disappeared around the rock.

Wait…was that blood on the back of JD's jacket, near the shoulder?

"JD…" he called, but his voice was too weak to be loud. He frowned again, realizing that the boy obviously knew he was in trouble, but hadn't wanted Ezra to know.

Damn it, he had really wanted to rest, - his whole body was ready to just settle in for a while. But he couldn't let the kid go out there without back-up, not with a bullet in his shoulder. He wouldn't be able to shoot straight.

Ezra looked down at the knife, and considered pulling it out. He couldn't walk with it in there. He could barely move at all so long as it stayed in there. He knew full well it could kill him to pull it, but the kid was going to need help. He hadn't bled that much, perhaps it would be alright…

He looked up towards the skies overhead, for advice, and felt a fat drop of rain land directly on his nose.

"Oh, of course," he growled, "Isn't that just _perfect."_

 **Chapter 17: Fear**

Chris looked up, dented metal bucket in hand, as the rain began to pound the fairgrounds. It didn't bother to begin with a slow sprinkle, no, instead the sky had opened up and they were instantly drenched. He tossed the bucket to the man next to him. The rain would put out the fire soon. Now he needed to find his men and regroup.

Looking around the chaos, though, Larabee realized it was even harder to see in the rain and accompanying steam then it had been with the smoke. He squinted and tried to get his bearings. Where was everyone?

Thunder boomed deafeningly just as lightning cracked across the sky.

Chris instinctively ducked and swore. The wind began to pick up and he was forced to hold onto his hat.

"Chris!" He heard the faint shout and spun around, searching. Was that Buck?

"Chris!" He spotted Buck this time, jumping and waving, on the other side of a sea of people.

His relief of seeing Wilmington was overwhelmed by a sudden sense of foreboding, of fear. Something wasn't right.

Buck paused and turned as if something had attracted his attention, and he was hidden from view again as the fairgoers moved like a wall between them.

And then, the crowd dissipated. And Buck was gone.

Chris ran forward, turning this way and that in the deluge.

"Chris! Chris! Ezra's hurt!"

Larabee looked up and had just enough time to catch JD as the kid collapsed in front of him. Chris took on his weight, staggering for a moment. "JD?" He clutched the young sheriff carefully, studying him and trying to figure out what was wrong.

"Ezra's hurt," JD said again, his head sagging.

Chris could see the stain of blood across JD's soaking wet back, and he hissed out a breath. "Damn."

"Buck!" Larabee shouted over the sound of the rain and the wind, but got no response. He could hardly see anything anymore. "Wilmington!" he called again. For a moment Chris wondered if he'd even seen Buck at all.

Carefully, he angled his shoulder under JD's arm, getting him to his feet and helping him stagger forward.

"Buck!" he called again, ducking his head in the rainfall. Then, he spotted it. Wilmington's black hat floating in a puddle.

He frowned when something else caught his eye. It was either a wig or a drowned cat. He hoped it was a wig because no cat should ever be that shade of red.

 **Chapter 18: Here There be Dragons**

The rain came down in a torrent, as if someone had suddenly overturned a bathtub on top of them all. The raging fire immediately retreated.

Josiah dipped his head and rain ran off the brim of his hat in rivulets. He stood, raising arms to the sky, exulting in the precipitation. Thunder crashed above and he thoughtfully, quickly, lowered his hands to his side, not wanting to draw the ire of an avenging god.

At least the gunfire had stopped. Was it simply because the shooting gallery had finally been abandoned? The sharpness of some of those shots seemed too loud to be coming from those child-sized weapons.

Nathan was helping the crocodile-lady to her feet. She was still coughing roughly, but seemed capable of standing. Behind her, the freak tent's singed sign displayed a half-lizard lady named 'Terra-Bella', showing a creature with a mouth full of teeth and a slashing tail.

"Nathan," she said as she leaned on him. "Thank goodness you're here!" She looked to Josiah, saying, "Thank you. I was overwhelmed in the smoke."

Josiah smiled at her, no longer surprised by her strange appearance – caused by some sort of skin condition. "I'm just glad I could help," he said as he glanced about, knowing that they should be moving. The fires were dying, but help was certainly needed still. It would be good to get out of the rain.

"What were you doing in there?" Nathan asked. "I thought everyone was out."

She smiled smugly. "Just making sure I had everything." She pulled up the hem of her skirt. Her skin was dark and pebbly-looking. Josiah noted a knife in a sheath, strapped to the leg, and just above it, a garter trapped a thick folded paper. She grinned at Nathan wickedly. Wind whipped past them, trying to draw the skirt up to an inappropriate level, and she immediately pulled it back into place as the rain fell.

She gazed back at the tent they'd just escaped, smiling as the rain poured down on it. Wind yanked at the ruined canvas, making it flutter and flap. "Yes," she whispered, watching water do its wonders. "Thank you, thank you, Lord, for stopping the flames!" Turning back to Nathan, she said, "They wanted to burn it all."

"Who?" Nathan asked, helping her to stand. "Who was trying to burn everything?"

"Jimmy Sureshot and Pirate Pete," she spat out the names.

"Jimmy Sureshot?" Josiah tried the name. "Pirate Pete?"

"The pirate is really Archie Clarke," Ginny informed him. "He's no good at it though. Never could do a good impression of a pirate, not like Tom."

When the others looked a question at her, she explained, "Long-John Tom ran the carousel – 'Blackbeard's Secret World'. It was all his. He was a great pirate." Ginny smiled sweetly, but the expression quickly changed to sadness. "I think they killed him. He disappeared a month ago, but Tom wouldn't leave us in the lurch. Not like that! He wouldn't have left his carousel. It's his world."

She went on, "I should've stayed behind to look for him, but…" and she trailed off, and her fierce look was replaced with a melancholy expression. "It's not that easy for some of us. And then Archie Clarke showed up, saying he was 'Pirate Pete' and he would take over for poor Tom. And Sureshot took over the shooting gallery."

She pushed away from Nathan and stood at her full height, an impressive stature. As she slowly turned about, quickly surveying the ruin, she had a beautiful regality about her.

"Don't dilly dally," she said, and suddenly she was in motion, striding in between the steaming tents. The rain poured down while the wind pushed everything about. Naked tent poles waved, burned canvas furled like flags and the sky flashed and roared. The once eclectic purple ornaments that decorated the tents had been singed to blacks and grays. Ginny the Crocodile-lady moved through them.

"You know her?" Josiah asked as they followed.

"Long story," Nathan said, and then he raised his voice above the wind and rain to call, "Ginny, what's happening?"

"Heisenberg, that bitch! If she's a snake charmer, then my left butt cheek is going to run for President." She continued moving, checking everywhere. "She doesn't know the first thing about pythons. That poor snake is suffering. She doesn't know enough to keep her warm. It's a shame because she's a beauty."

"Heisenberg?" Josiah echoed. "Wait a minute, isn't she…"

"The snake charmer. She called herself Alberta, but I sussed out the truth." Ginny shook her head, looking a little annoyed. "Keep up!" she demanded as they moved.

Josiah looked to Nathan, surprised by this news.

Ginny went on, "She joined us with Sureshot and Pirate Pete the rest of them last week. I told our manager that he shouldn't be bringing on so many people at the same time, but he's the most naive manager I've ever seen. Dumber than a box of hair." She kept checking into every vacated tent, pulling back flaps that whipped cruelly into her face. "I'm sure she's behind all of this. Sureshot doesn't have the brains. The pirate is useless."

When they stepped free of the row of tents and into a clearing, they paused. There were bodies on the ground. Nathan went to them immediately, while Ginny and Josiah watched.

"Gone," Nathan said dourly. "The smoke got to them, I think."

Josiah stood over them, uttering a prayer.

Ginny looked morose as she squatted beside one, softly touching a shoulder. "I don't know them," she said quietly. "They must be guests. Those poor souls." She closed her eyes a moment and then said angrily, "Those sons of bitches didn't even care who was in the way of their plan."

"What plan?" Josiah asked. "What's going on here?"

She shook her head. "I'm not entirely sure about all of it, but I think I've pieced together a few things."

She stood and scanned the area, rain cascading down her nearly-hairless head and down her back, as Nathan continued to examine the bodies in the rain.

 **Chapter 19: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished**

Pulling the knife out may have been a mistake.

Ezra picked his way unsteadily through the storm, one hand pressed against his side, the other outstretched to grab any surface that wasn't on fire and that might support his weight. Mistake or not, it was easier to move without a sharp piece of metal digging into him with every step — and Ezra needed to move. He needed to find Buck and JD.

The rain blurred the milling crowds and mixed with the smoke from the dying fires to turn the entire fairgrounds into a grey haze. Ezra swiped irritably at his eyes, wishing he could remember where he'd left his hat. He blinked tears and rainwater away, trying to bring the chaos around him into some sort of focus.

He needed to find Buck, and warn him about the knife-happy harridan on his trail. He needed to make this right. He needed to find JD, and see that his gunshot shoulder was tended.

He scanned the crowd, pausing as he came to the garish billboards advertising the freak tent. The tent itself was a smoldering wreck in the distance. There, crouched the familiar shapes of Nathan and Josiah. Ezra sagged in relief and started toward them.

Something large and soggy loomed before him, blocking his way.

"Ezra!" It was Buck's voice, and Buck's plaid shirt he was standing nose-level with in the rain. Ezra latched on to Buck's coat sleeve, grateful to have something to lean on that wasn't in flames.

"Ezra?" Buck's worried face swam into focus. Ezra took a deep breath, ready to deliver his warning, and then doubled over with a groan, clutching his side.

"What the hell?" Buck hissed, catching Ezra as he sagged. He looped an arm under his shaking shoulders and began dragging him, yelling for Chris at the top of his lungs.

Ezra glanced back longingly toward the receding figures of Nathan and Josiah, but couldn't draw in enough air to speak.

"Chris!" Buck waved frantically at someone Ezra couldn't see. The muddy ground beneath his feet seemed to pitch and yaw like a ship in rough seas. Glancing down, he saw the stitched smile of a stuffed bunny peeking out of Buck's waistband.

"Buck," he gasped, tugging his sleeve again to get his attention. "Trouble…"

"We got trouble, all right, pard," Buck agreed, still lugging him through the crowd. "But we also got Chis Larabee - CHRIS! - So why don't you hold tight and let us take care of—oof!"

Buck's pep talk cut off abruptly as he was tackled by carnies from three directions. Ezra tumbled free of the pile, clutching the stuffed bunny in one bloodied hand. He gave it a dazed smile.

His smile fell as a tiny spotted dog launched itself at him like a furry cannonball and clamped its jaws around the toy. The little terrier landed, evading Ezra's feeble grab. It gave the bunny a viscous shake, then scuttled off with it, tail wagging.

Ezra fell back into the mud. Beside him, the carnies were hauling Buck to his feet, bruised and bleeding, but still putting up a fight.

"Enough!"

Ezra let out a feeble gargle of protest as Sarah Heisenberg looped a wiry arm under his chin, exposing his neck to the blade she had produced from somewhere in the gaudy skirts of her carnival costume. The fight went out of Buck immediately. Ezra shuddered as the yellow snake glided down Heisenberg's arm and began to coil around his chest.

Heisenberg pushed the sopping wet wig off her head, exposing the mousey brown of her natural curls. Without the wig and with most of the makeup scrubbed off by the rain, she looked much more like the high society matron who was supposed to be entombed in a lavish family plot back in Clarke's Town.

"Too many eyes around here," Heisenberg snapped, glancing around. "Put them with the others. We'll get that necklace out of them if I have to slice them into pieces." She glanced to Sureshot who hovered nearby. "Get that toy away from that dog!"

Buck braced himself as the largest carny cocked back a fist. When he opened his eyes again, he was tumbling out of a burlap sack and onto the dirt floor of some sort of dim, musty cellar. His pockets were roughly searched, then one of Heisenberg's flunkies dragged him across the room and roped him against a pillar.

They repeated the procedure on Ezra, who slumped motionless against the ropes, his face ghostly pale in the dim light. There was movement from one of the burlap bags as a huge yellow snake slowly unspooled itself from its confinement. It nosed the air for a moment, and then slithered across the floor to coil again around the injured man's torso.

"Git away from him!" Buck hissed. He kicked out one foot, grazing one of Ezra's boots. The snake ignored him, spiraling up Ezra's chest until its wedge-shaped head nestled in the crook of his neck. The carnies jeered as they backed out of the root cellar. The door slammed shut with a solid thunk and Buck could hear the rattle of chains as someone locked them in.

For a moment, there was silence. Then.

"'Ey, pard," Vin's voice floated out of the darkness. "Nice of you two to join the party."

Buck let out a whoop as he craned his neck and spotted Vin and a stranger, trussed to pillars on the other side of the room.

"You ol'—" he started, but Vin cut him off.

"Don't believe we've met. Name's Yosemite," he drawled. "And this fella right next to me is a genuine Texas District Attorney."

 **Chapter 20:** **Unsung Heroes**

The tiny terrier dodged between tents, leaping tie downs and darting between legs. The stuffed bunny's limbs bounced and flopped offering no hindrance to the tiny dog's forward rush.

"Come here, you dirty little mongrel!" Jimmy Sureshot rushed after the fleeing terrier. The mare's leg bounced against his shoulder.

The dog paid no heed. It zigzagged effortlessly between gaggles of shifting legs, avoided spilling water of the faltering bucket brigade. The terrier effortlessly leaped puddles twice its length, dragging its prize with him.

Sureshot shoved people out of his way. His boots became saturated with rainwater. He limped slightly, the wound from the pellet was hardly a hindrance. He sloshed through deep puddles and knocked a bucket from the helping hands of a bucket brigader without apology. He cursed the tiny dog and all others that entered his vision.

He kept his jaundice eyes on the fleeting white-tailed, black-splotched demon as it bounced and twisted its way past obstacles. Jimmy Sureshot hated the little dog's sense of play and tag. He despised the way the terrier always wanted to play keep away and chase. Sureshot loathed chasing anything.

"Oh, I know how to stop you," Sureshot slowed to a stop. He shrugged Vin's mare's leg from his shoulder allowing it to slide into his muddied hands. He raised the mare's leg to his poorly fleshed shoulder. Sureshot spit a string of tobacco juice as he exhaled trying to rein in his breath.

As if sensing the change, the little terrier stopped just down the tent alley and sat facing Jimmy Sureshot. The stuffed bunny dangled from its lateral thorax from the tight jaws. The stitched smile and button eyes seemed impervious to the abuse that was thrust upon it.

The terrier wagged its tail, sat erect and stared back at Sureshot waiting patiently for the game to continue.

"Got you now," Jimmy eased back the lever sliding a round into the chamber. "Just hold still, you little rat," he whispered.

His dirt-stained finger curled around the trigger slowly adding pressure.

The terrier stared back and cocked his head to the side. His tail wagged faster. The tiny dog loved playing games. The stuffed bunny's ear tips folded onto the wet grass.

"You're done," Sureshot squeezed the trigger sending the bullet spiraling down the barrel and to the far left and above the little terrier.

The bullet knocked the black hat off a black-coated, dirty blond haired man supporting another that had just stepped into the alley.

Before the hat finished lifting from Larabee's head, he pivoted, dropped to one knee, drew his revolver in single fluid motion and aimed back.

JD collapsed to the ground next to the terrier.

JD's eyes locked on the dog, but more importantly what it held.

"The bunny. He has the bunny," Dunne whispered. "Oh thank goodness. Good dog," JD mumbled.

The terrier simply raised one lip, not relinquishing his grip on the toy bunny.

Sureshot swore and dove between tents.

TBC


	3. Part 3

**PART 3**

 **Chapter 21: Hidden Things**

"Chris!" Nathan shouted, diving to his knees next to JD as they pressed into a nearby tent that offered protection from the rain. Josiah already had his weapon drawn, watching over them both as Chris stood up, his gaze still searching for whomever had shot at them.

"The bunny! Here boy, give it here. Drop it," JD was mumbling, one hand feebly reaching for the dog.

A sharp whistle hit the air, and the dog took off, the bunny still in its jaw. JD's face fell, and he slumped.

Nathan had already peeled off JD's jacket and was pressing bandages against the bleeding. He looked up at Chris who was now standing over them both, his expression as dark as the thunderous sky.

"What happened?" Josiah asked.

"Not sure. He ran into me already bleeding," Chris said, frowning at the small, dry-skinned woman who was now kneeling next to Nathan. "He practically fell on me, saying something about Ezra. I was trying to get him someplace dry when someone - Sureshot I think - tried to take my head off."

"Sureshot?" Josiah frowned. "The one running the shooting gallery?"

"Told you he was fishy," the woman told Nathan smugly.

"Chris, this is Ginny," Nathan introduced. "She's a friend. We can trust her."

"Chris…" JD called weakly, and Chris knelt down again, confident in Josiah's ability to watch for trouble.

"Chris, Sarah Heisenberg…" JD coughed and groaned as Nathan used cloth from Ginny's skirt to tie down the bandages.

"She's here?" Chris said.

"You know Sarah?" Ginny asked.

"Do you?" Chris asked sharply, looking at her appraisingly. Nathan frowned at Chris, but the woman lifted her chin to match the gunslinger's gaze.

"She joined us just a day or so ago, professing to be a snake charmer, but it didn't make any sense. She fell in immediately with Sureshot and his crew. The whole lot of them are no good."

"She must have found out we were coming here," Nathan said, frowning more. "She then beat us here and hired this Sureshot fella to help her steal back the necklace."

Chris scowled, and knelt closer to JD. "Kid, where's the necklace?"

JD grunted as Nathan worked on him, but he seemed more alert now. "It's…I think it's in the bunny…"

"What bunny?"

"The dog had it. Ezra hid it in the bunny."

Chris's eyes widened and he turned to where he'd last seen the dog a few moments ago. He'd seen it with a stuffed animal—could've been a bunny once—trapped in its maw.

"What the hell possessed him to do that?" Nathan demanded as finished tying off JD's wounds. "It's a crazy idea," he added.

The kid shook his head - he had a little more color in his face now, and Nathan and Ginny helped prop JD up to a sitting position.

"Not really sure but, I think he did it to hide it," JD said, blinking back obvious exhaustion. "Ezra said…he said he'd had a feeling. Took the necklace off me at the shooting gallery. But…but…" JD's eyes opened a little wider. "Oh gosh, Ezra. Nate, Ezra's hurt bad, really bad. I gotta take you to him. She had a knife in him. And, and, and he told her Buck had the bunny. Where's Buck? Wait, how'd the dog get the bunny?"

Chris's jaw clenched, and he looked at Nathan and then Josiah. They had none of the answers to those questions.

"The dog belongs to Sarah's father, Archie" Ginny said suddenly. "He calls himself Pirate Pete now." She shook her head. "Dog's name is Petey, so he didn't think very long coming up with a name for himself." She frowned. "He doesn't treat Petey very well. Dog'll do anything for a turkey leg. If you can get to the dog before Archie does…" She arched an eyebrow.

Chris sighed heavily.

"It'd be awful helpful if Vin could show up right about now," he muttered, peering through the rain, smoke and smoldering tents as if the tracker might suddenly appear. When he didn't, Chris frowned even more deeply. He had a bad feeling.

"Alright," he said, looking at them all. "As much as I don't like it, we gotta split up." He looked down at Nathan, JD and Ginny. "JD, can you walk?"

JD gave a nod. "I'm feeling better already."

Chris snorted, not believing that for a moment, but needs must. "Then you lead Nate to wherever you left Ezra. Then you stay there with Ez, to protect him. Nate, once you've taken care of Ez, I'll need you to come back and join me as soon you can."

"Which will be where?" Nathan asked.

"I'm going after that dog. I'm thinking Sureshot may've been after him too, so best we find him before Sureshot or his master find him. We need that necklace if we're going to keep that man from hanging."

"And me?" Josiah asked.

"Buck wouldn't have just vanished. See if you can find him, and Vin too, while you're at it. If you do, and they're in trouble, come get me and Nate."

"I can help you search for them," Ginny said to Josiah, standing. "We've been here for a few weeks now. I know the terrain. Might be able to get some friends to help as well."

Chris frowned. "I don't think—"

"I trust her, Chris," Nathan said firmly, staring at him firmly. "I know her."

Chris's jaw stretched tight, but, after a moment, he inclined his head. Nathan gave a small smile, and, with a grunt, he levered JD back to his feet, the kid leaning on him heavily.

"Right," Chris said, "no one take any stupid chances. Anyone here could be with Heisenberg, so we need—"

"Ginny!" a voice wailed, and Ginny turned as a large hairy man, tears running down his face, stumbled towards her through the rain and into the tent. It was the Wildman of West WalloWallo, his flowery pantaloons all torn and smudged, his tiny, flowery hat wobbling on his head, and blood running down one side of his face.

Ginny gasped and moved forward to meet him. "Bobo!" she called touching the blood matting the thick beard. "Oh, you poor darling! What happened?"

"Ginny," Bobo said, still crying. "You were right. That Jimmy is mean! I tried to stick up for him earlier, when some gambler and his friend cheated and took a prize away from him, but I won't do it again!"

"Jimmy did this to you?" she said.

"Uh huh," Bobo agreed, his lips quivering under all his hair. "The doggy had Jimmy's prize, and, when I saw that, I tried to get it from the dog, but the dog wouldn't give it. Pretty sure he just wanted to play. Then Jimmy came and he told me to get out of the way, and tried to shoot the dog! When I went to stop him, Jimmy hit me with his gun!" And Bobo wailed again. Ginny shushed him, petting the side of his head, and turned to look at Chris and the others.

"Oh yeah," she said, her gaze fierce. "Sureshot and that bitch are going down."

 **Chapter 22: Secrets and Lies**

Buck blinked at Vin and glanced at the other man. The Texas attorney eyed him with an air of suspicion.

Buck swallowed and nodded to Vin. "Well, Yosemite. I'm Buck and this guy here," he dipped his head toward Ezra. "He's Ezra. What'd you say your name was?" He looked directly at the attorney now.

The attorney waited, as if debating whether or not he was going to answer,

"Matthews," he finally answered. "What the hell is going on out there?" The DA struggled against his bonds a moment then gave up again.

"A whole lot of chaos is all I've seen." Buck admitted. "The fires are finally out, thanks to the rain, but the storm is just making things worse." He tried to flex, but the ropes had been tied too tight. He glanced at Ezra. Standish appeared to be unconscious but he couldn't quite tell. The snake seemed to have settled into a comfortable grip. He kicked his foot in the gambler's direction, but the snake ignored him.

"He hurt?" Vin asked trying to keep the concern from his voice.

Buck nodded and winced. His head was killing him. "Found him bleeding like a stuck pig while I was looking for JD and Chris."

"Who are they?" Vin asked, reminding Buck of the lie they were trying to keep going.

"JD Dunne?" Matthews asked with sudden interest. "As in Sheriff JD Dunne? I was supposed to meet him later tonight."

Buck strained to look at the DA again.

Matthews continued, "Dunne's supposed to deliver evidence to help me convict Sarah Heisenberg for…"

Ezra moaned and stirred. The snake hissed and visibly tightened around him.

"Ez…" Buck frowned, turning his attention back to his friend. "Easy now, hoss. Don't be moving. You hear me Ezra?"

Ezra could hear Wilmington's voice but the words were jumbled. He felt hot and wet and trapped. He couldn't breathe. Struggling he tried to open his eyes.

"Can he hear you?" Vin was here.

"Vin." Ezra blinked his eyes open finally, trying to focus.

"What'd he say?" Matthews asked.

"When." Buck lied. "He asked when we were going to get him free."

"I don't think that's what he said." Matthews shook his head. "Sounded more like…"

"Buck?" Ezra's eyes were wide with panic now as he focused on the snake wrapped tightly around him.

"Don't move, Ez." Buck ignored the DA's question. "Look at me."

It took a minute but Ezra obeyed.

"That there snake is just a friendly guy. He likes you a bit so you just stay still and let him get a little warmth off of ya."

Standish started to shake his head, but gasped as the snake tightened again.

"Don't move." Buck commanded again in a harsh whisper. "You understand me?"

He could see that Ezra's eyes were unclear. The gambler wasn't fully conscious after all. "Just stay still," he pleaded, hoping Ezra would understand. "We'll get you out of here soon."

"Really, Mr. Wilmington, you shouldn't lie to your friend that way." Sarah Heisenberg's sharp voice surprised him. He'd been so focused on Ezra he hadn't heard her enter. Two of her goons hunched over behind her, too tall for the tiny cellar.

She smiled at the captives and then pointed her knife at Buck. "I think it's time you and I had a little chat."

 **Chapter** **23: Boats or Rafts**

"He was here," JD said as he leaned heavily on Nathan. "I… I left him here." His voice was small and distant as he looked at the empty space among the rocks and the rain-engorged steam.

Nathan's eyes focused on the blood and the knife as the rain slacked around them.

Carefully, he lowered JD to lean against one of the rocks. There was no need to stay here. They had to get out of this weather.

"He pulled it out?" Nathan asked, incredulously. "Doesn't he know better? Doesn't he listen to anything I tell him?"

JD grunted, clasping at his wounded shoulder. "I told him," he insisted. "Thought he listened." Forlornly he added, "Guess not."

Nathan straightened and looked around. If there had been a blood trail, the rain had washed it away. "Dammit, Ezra. Where did you go?" he asked worriedly.

JD closed his eyes, rocking forward. "He wanted to get to Buck," he explained. "He was really worried about that bunny, worried about the snake charmer lady."

Nathan snorted a little at the ridiculous of that statement, even as he considered the seriousness of the situation.

A glance toward JD told Nathan that he really shouldn't have been dragging the kid around. JD could talk a good game, but anyone could see he shouldn't be walking, should be moved out of this rain. Nathan had hoped to get the injured men together, and then move them under cover, where they could be kept still, where they could watch out for each other.

Of course, all good plans went a little south with this group. Now, he couldn't leave JD here alone. As much as JD insisted he was capable, it was obvious that the kid was better off resting out of this weather.

Jackson stared out over the ruin of the carnival. Smoking tents, damaged decorations and half-collapsed buildings filled the landscape. The only things left standing in the area was the pirate merry-go-round and a rickety rollercoaster called 'Ride to the Moon'. The area was otherwise unpeopled. There was no sign anyone, no sign of Ezra.

His only choice was to get JD on his feet and haul him back toward the others, but as he looked down at young Dunne, Nathan wished he had another option.

"I'm fine," the kid said, looking toward Nathan as if he knew exactly what the healer was thinking. "We got to find Ezra. We gotta, Nate. He was hurt really bad and if he pulled out that knife, he could be in bad shape, right?" His eyes were puppy-dog big as he stared up at Jackson.

Nathan blew out a breath and offered a hand to Dunne. He had no choice in the matter. He had to get Dunne up again and moving. They had to find Ezra before anything happened to him. Who knew what kind of trouble he could find in this place?

He looked up as a form appeared near the carousel. Nathan squinted at the man, wondering if he should draw a knife.

The man turned and spotted them. "Hey!" he called, and started toward them. He was huge, and wore an apron that seemed to be splattered with lemon and whipped cream in spite of the rain. He stopped suddenly and pointed. "Look out! Get out of there!"

Nathan, his hand still extended toward JD, grasped the kid's arm and pulled him up. "What? Why?"

The big man pointed. "It's coming your way! Get down! Now!"

Nathan turned in the direction that the man had pointed, toward the little stream that flowed through the rocks, hardly wide enough to handle the smallest boat.

A tiny boat came toward them – and riding in it – looking almost like a passenger – a lit stick of dynamite.

Nathan had no time to think, he shoved JD forward, behind the rocks and away from the tiny creek and the tiny boat and the big stick of dynamite – just as the charge went off.

 **Chapter 24: Dark Side of the Moon**

Larabee lunged at the hairy menace he'd chased across the fairgrounds. The little spotted dog cocked its head, tail wagging, watching his leap with interest. The drool-soaked bunny flopped in its jaws, one button eye glittering out at Larabee like it was looking for rescue.

"Gotcha, you little—" his words ended in a splat as the terrier dodged at the last possible second and Chris Larabee, the most feared gunfighter in three territories, landed face-first in the mud.

Swearing, he pushed himself up on hands and knees, pawing muck out of his eyes.

The little dog dropped to its haunches and gnawed happily on the bunny, waiting for the fun to resume. There was a ripping noise as one of the bunny's paws disappeared down the dog's gullet.

"No!" Larabee yelled, squelching back to his feet to continue the chase.

They had reached the shaky wooden struts of the Ride to the Moon roller coaster and the little dog was weaving between the beams like he'd just invented the best game ever.

Larabee leaned against a wooden post, panting. The coaster was nothing like the grand structures he'd heard about elsewhere — arcane contraptions or wild rides carved into mountainsides. He'd heard Paris built a coaster in the '60s that spun riders upside-down in a loop.

He'd seen this one in operation earlier, sending riders up a few hills on rickety rails and clattering down tunnels. He'd heard the delighted shrieks echoing out of the darkness and made a mental note to sneak a ride before the day's end.

The dog bounded up onto the tracks and paused, watching him expectantly.

The bunny seemed to be missing an ear now. If he didn't move fast, a man would be going to the gallows because a dog ate the evidence that should have exonerated him. Larabee hoped there was enough of Ezra left to throttle once this was all over.

He pushed thoughts of Ezra away. Half his men were missing or bloody and if he let himself think too hard about that, the goddamn dog really was going to eat the evidence.

He jumped up on the tracks and stalked toward the mutt. Stupid dog looked like it was grinning at him around the mangled bunny. Larabee made another grab that the dog dodged with ease as it scrambled up one of the coaster's artificial hills. Its paws scrabbled on the wet wood and iron rails, but it pushed onward and upward, panting.

Grimly, Larabee followed, catching glimpses of the smoldering hellscape of the Forbidden Planet fairgrounds as he climbed.

The track led through a raised, darkened tunnel. Strategically placed lanterns illuminated fantastic scenes — glowing stars and planets overhead, the cratered surface of a moonscape below. On one wall, someone had painted the bullet-shaped lunar explorer from the Jules Verne novels. Tiny painted explorers peered out at them with opera glasses.

The dog trotted onward, back into daylight and rain. But it was slowing, the closer they got to the top, finally worn out by exertion, gravity, and a belly full of fried chicken and bunny limbs.

"Gotcha!" Larabee scooped the dog into his arms just as they both reached the peak of hill, which turned out to be the ride's starting platform. Painted moons winked down from the walls. A row of coaster cars, awkwardly painted to look like space projectiles, waited forlornly on the tracks for crowds that wouldn't come.

The dog's stubby tail thumped against his ribcage as it snuggled in his arms, satisfied with this turn of events.

"Bad dog," Larabee growled.

The dog's tail just wagged harder. Stupid dog. Absently, he gave its soggy head a pat.

The sound of a stranger's laugh dropped his hand to his holster.

"Looks like the law dog got an outlaw dog." Jimmy Sureshot oozed out of the shadows beside the ride's ticket booth. He raised his weapon, taking aim.

Larabee snorted, unimpressed. He'd seen Sureshot's aim in action.

"You shot my hat," he hissed.

Sureshot scowled. "I was aiming for the mutt!"

"Nobody shoots my hat," Larabee said. His eyes narrowed, recognizing the rifle in Sureshot's unsteady hand. "Where the hell'd you get that mare's leg?"

Whatever Sureshot was about to say was cut off by a godawful explosion that lit up a far corner of the fairgrounds. Larabee stumbled back, boots skidding on the rain-slicked coaster planks. The dog yipped and burrowed closer to him.

"That'd be my pal, Pirate Pete," Sureshot called out with a cackle. "Big fan of dynamite, Ol' Pete."

There was a hissing noise and Larabee wrenched his attention away from the blast and back to the idiot in the striped jacket.

A slow, oily smile spread across Sureshot's face, illuminated by the hissing fuse of the lit stick of dynamite he held in one hand.

"The pirate brought enough dynamite to share," Sureshot said, dropping the stick into the first coaster car. Without breaking eye contact, he stretched out an arm and pulled a switch, launching the coaster and its hissing cargo.

Larabee tightened his grip on the dog and turned to run.

He didn't make it.

The coaster clipped the back of his legs and sent him spinning off the edge.

He kept one arm cinched around the dog and its payload. The other reached for something, anything, to break his fall. Above him, the doomed coaster clattered along its track as Larabee hurtled toward the fairground mud below.

It was a fall cut brutally short as his long black duster snagged on a support beam. The whiplash stop nearly shook the dog from his arms, and Larabee bit back a bellow of pain as the coat bunched under his armpits and his shoulder joints took his full weight.

For a second, he dangled there, gasping in shock. The little dog let out a whimper and wedged its head, soggy bunny and all, into the crook of his neck.

Then came the sound of fabric ripping.

Larabee closed his eyes as he sagged a few inches closer to the ground. So help him, if Sureshot ruined his hat _and_ his coat in the same day...

With that, the Ride to the Moon coaster exploded like a box of matchsticks

 **Chapter 25:** **"The difference between genius and stupidity is that genius has its limits." (Albert Einstein)**

"I'm beginning to wonder about everything that's going on," Josiah said as he walked between the crocodile woman and the wildman from the Wilds of West WalloWallo. "Everything about this seems rather, well, crazy."

"Crazy ain't half of it," Ginny said. "Someone thinks they're awful smart, but they're downright stupid! We find your friends, and then we need to end this scheme. This has gone too far."

Josiah nodded thoughtfully. "So much destruction and death over an amethyst necklace."

"A necklace?" Ginny replied. "That was just to get you here."

Josiah stopped short. "What do you mean?"

"I sent that telegram to you all, telling you to meet the DA here."

"And you sent one to the DA as well, telling him to come?" Josiah concluded.

Ginny smiled. "I figured it would work. This is about a whole lot more than that necklace."

"Yep, yep, yep," Bobo said, grinning happily at being included. He'd wiped the blood from his face and looked only mildly wild at this point. "There's lots more. Lots more!" He carefully adjusted his only partially mangled flowered hat.

"More?" Josiah asked, "What else is going on here?"

Bobo said, nodding, "Tom knows. Tommy does."

Ginny gave the hairy man a sympathetic look, and then took a quick look around before reaching under her skirts to pull the document from her garter. "This," she said. "This is what Heisenberg sent to our Tom."

Josiah frowned, remembering the name Ginny had used earlier. "Heisenberg was involved with your carousel operator?"

Ginny held up the letter but didn't let Josiah take it. "Long-John Tom was a good man, but was led by his heart," she insisted as if he needed to know that.

"I know the sort," Josiah said.

"He made poor choices. He met Sarah Heisenberg months ago when we were in Clarke's Town. They dallied," she drew out the word. "Foolish man getting involved with a married woman. After we left for the next town, she started writing him letters. He's a pushover for that sort of thing. When Tom received a big box, he brought the letter to me because he was confused."

She handed over the letter as she explained, "It's from Sarah Heisenberg and it tells him to hide the box. Never open it. She'd come for it in time. It was part of her master plan. She said they'd be married. She thinks she's so damn smart."

"What was in it?" Josiah said as he unfolded the letter.

Ginny shrugged. "I think his worry got the better of him and he opened that box because he got real peculiar and secretive all of a sudden." She sighed and brushed discontented at her skirts. "The letter says that her husband killed for whatever was in that box. There's folks looking for it. The law wants it."

Josiah read through the words finding the same information that Ginny had explained.

She went on, "Then Tom disappeared. Some said he went in search of his ladylove, but I knew better. He'd never leave his carousel. He wouldn't have just left us. We're family," she paused, sniffling a little. "Heisenberg showed up with her snake, calling herself 'Alberta', right after that. I know who the real snake is. I found Heisenberg going through Tom's stuff. I told that bitch to get out and she acted all affronted." Ginny shook her head. "I got a look at her handwriting once. It matches that." She pointed to the letter. "Now they're burning the place, probably trying to destroy any evidence and looking for whatever was in that box. I wish I knew what was in it. Must not be burnable, whatever it is."

"I know! I know!" Bobo skittered back and forth, excited about something. "Jimmy was looking!" he said. "Jimmy was looking all the time. He knew!" He held his dirty, hairy hands to his mouth as if trying very hard to keep his words in.

"What?" Josiah asked, and Ginny looked at him curiously.

"Gold and jewels! Gold and jewels!" The words burst out of Bobo. "Always looking!"

"Bobo, are you sure?" Ginny asked.

Bobo bobbed. "Jimmy said there was lots of jewels. Lots of gold. He was gonna give me the bunny prize if I found it."

Another explosion rocked the fairgrounds, forcing the three of them to the ground.

Bobo started a keening sound, and Ginny reached for him, trying to soothe.

"What's happening?" Josiah asked, crawling to Ginny, ready to throw himself over her to protect her.

Ginny glared in the direction of the explosion. She started to speak when another explosion blasted through the grounds, and the Ride to the Moon rollercoaster came down, slowly – like a living thing collapsing folding in on itself.

"Son of a bitch!" Ginny shouted as she shook off Josiah and climbed to her feet. She started running toward the sound of the explosion as the debris was still raining down. "It's that damn pirate!"

Bobo was on his feet in a minute, running after Ginny.

Josiah sighed as he stood, and trotted toward one of the last things standing – the merry-go-round. The sun glinted off the decorated sea-creatures like jewels.

 **Chapter** **26: The Journey of a Thousand Miles Sometimes Ends Very, Very Badly.**

The knife traced the edge of Buck's jaw, pressing just hard enough to scratch the skin. The blade came to rest against his ear.

"I want you to listen very, _very_ carefully — while you still can," Sarah Heisenberg said, leaning in close. He could smell smoke in her hair and see Ezra's blood on her sleeve.

"I'm all ears," Buck said with a weak chuckle, trying not to flinch as a trickle of blood ran down his neck to soak his shirt collar.

"For the moment," Heisenberg said, stepping back to deliver a swift kick to his already abused ribs. "How many of your friends are still out there?"

Buck doubled over, wheezing. The only thing keeping him upright was the rope that bound him to the wooden post. On the other side of the cellar, he could hear the Texas lawyer blustering and a thrashing noise that was probably Vin, trying to bust his way out of his own bindings. Ezra stirred feebly at the commotion, drawing an irritated hiss from the big snake coiled around him.

Buck drew in a pained breath and started talking before the crazy lady decided to shift her attention to someone else. "Plenty," he choked out, watching warily as Heisenberg examined the blood-smeared knife. She wiped it clean on the sleeve of her nearest henchman.

Heisenberg gave him a gleaming, feral grin. Either she'd popped in an expensive set of false teeth, or she'd removed whatever made it look like she was missing half of her own. All she needed now was a bath and a dry set of clothes and she could board a train headed anywhere, looking like just another unremarkable society matron. And the railroad ran through Cedar Ridge.

"Tell me what you know about my soon-to-be-late husband's fortune," Heisenberg said, waving the knife in hypnotic loops, as if she was trying to decide which of his features she wanted to carve next. Ear. Nose. Eye.

Buck frowned. "You still lookin' for that necklace? Seems to me Texas has more than enough proof you're still kicking, with or without your fancy jewels."

"I sent a telegram this morning, requesting a stay of execution so that I could see your evidence," the Texas DA piped up again. "We won't hang an innocent man." Vin's quiet snort of disbelief was lost in the much louder bark of laughter from Heisenberg.

The snake lady crouched and tapped the knife against Buck's face. The point dug in just under his chin, forcing his head back.

"Do you idiots think I went to all this trouble—" Her free arm swept out in a grand gesture that took in the shambles outside. "Over one necklace _?"_

The knife was moving again, tracing down his chest. She gave it a casual flick that sent a button bouncing across the dirt floor.

"I thought you were all here because you'd realized where that necklace came from." She sent another button flying. "But I suppose it's been a long time and a lot of miles since Reno."

From behind them came a soft cough, and a question. "Reno?" Ezra echoed. He sat up, stifling a grunt of pain. "Reno, about ten years ago?"

The attorney, Matthews, gasped. "The train robbery? The Clarke gang?"

The Clarke gang had been the scourge of banks and stagecoach lines throughout Nevada Territory before the war. The gang's final heist was a train carrying $40,000 in gold and bank notes — and a small fortune in jewelry, bound for a rich rancher's wife in California – the jewels included a remarkable blue diamond, round as the moon. The gang, and its stolen fortune, hadn't been seen since.

"I was born Sarah Clarke," Heisenberg said, still toying with Buck's shirt. "My father had a true knack for moneymaking — or rather, money taking."

She sliced off another button. "And my dolt of a husband has a knack for spending it."

Matthews let out an aggravated groan. "Clarke's Town. You live in _Clarke's_ Town…"

"It's amazing what you can buy with a trainload of gold," Heisenberg said. "I'd hold off on declaring my husband an innocent man, if I were you. He's the one who killed that conductor back in Reno."

Heisenberg turned her attention back to Buck, who grimaced, not liking the direction the knife was heading.

Ezra craned his head around the snake, studying Heisenberg with woozy interest. His face was as pale as the python that encircled him.

"Where is that money now, if I might inquire?" he asked, leaning forward as far as the ropes, and the knife wound in his side, permitted. Vin let out another amused snort.

"I don't _know_ ," Heisenberg snapped. "I sent it here to someone I thought I could trust, and by the time I arrived, he'd hidden it away somewhere in this traveling flea circus. For 'safekeeping,' he said. Right before I slit his throat."

"Well, ma'am, we'd be happy to help you look," Buck said, with vast insincerity. "But it seems like your pals barbecued most of the best hiding places."

Heisenberg's expression darkened, then froze as a distant, ominous boom rumbled through the cellar.

One of the henchmen stirred uneasily. "Was that—?" he started.

"Dynamite," Heisenberg spat out the word. She slammed the knife into the post next to Buck's head, where it stuck, quivering. She rounded on her men. "Who let my father near the dynamite?"

They edged away from her, babbling denials.

"Never mind," she said, shoving them toward the exit. "Go find the old pirate and get him away from the explosives before he blows up our profits. Any lawmen you see, you shoot."

The men pushed the door open, letting in a gust of smoky air and a few stray raindrops. It slammed shut behind them, blocking out the light and the distant cries for help.

Heisenberg surveyed the collection of battered lawmen before her. Strolling over to Ezra, she casually unwound the giant constrictor and draped it across her shoulders. She prodded him with a toe, looking disappointed when he simply stared back at her.

"Poor Baby hasn't had a proper meal since we left the real snake charmer dead in a ditch back in Abilene," she said, crouching down until she, Buck, and the snake were all staring eye to eye. "That's a lot of miles to travel on an empty belly, don't you think?"

The snake's forked tongue flickered out, tickling the tip of Buck's nose.

A second dynamite blast rumbled through the fairgrounds. Dirt sifted down from the ceiling and Heisenberg rolled her eyes in exasperation.

Buck took advantage of her distraction to deliver a vicious head-butt. A resounding crack echoed through the cellar and Heisenberg crumpled bonelessly to the floor, with the snake looped around her neck like a fat executioner's noose.

"Nice going, Bucklin!" Vin cheered.

"I think he said his name was 'Buck,'" Matthews corrected him. "But I have to agree. Well done, sir!"

Shaking his head to clear it, Buck inched up the post, trying to get the ropes level with the knife Heisenberg had jammed into the wood. The cellar seemed to swim around him as he hitched himself upright until the blade met the rope.

"Only thing harder than that woman's heart was her head," he said, grunting in satisfaction as the rope fell away.

Wrenching the knife free, he moved to Ezra's side, frowning at the size of the bloodstain that had spread across the gambler's shirt.

"Just a scratch," Ezra muttered, eyes fluttering shut as Buck eased him to the ground and lifted away the makeshift bandage — somebody's torn shirt sleeve, he realized. Buck replaced it with his cleanest bandanna, relieved to see that the bleeding had stopped.

"You rest up, Ez," he whispered, patting the gambler's shoulder. "You don't want to miss the treasure hunt."

A slow, greedy smile spread across Ezra's face, but his eyes stayed closed.

With a sigh, Buck crossed the cellar to free Vin and Matthews. The two of them looked almost as rough as Ezra. The attorney's shoulder was a mess and the hair on the back of Vin's head was matted with blood.

"You look like hell, Vi- uh, Yosemite," Buck said, giving 'Yosemite' a friendly punch on the arm. Matthews shot them a sidelong glance.

"You ain't exactly fresh as a daisy yourself," Vin said, studying Buck's cut and bruised face and shredded, pie-stained shirt.

Sidestepping the attorney, Vin crossed the cellar to check on Ezra. He shucked off his coat and eased it under the injured man's head.

Vin glanced toward the exit. "Reckon we ought to lend a hand out there?"

"Reckon so," Buck agreed. He glanced over at Matthews, who swaying unsteadily on his feet. "You mind keeping an eye on things here for us?" He offered the knife to Matthews, who accepted it with a nod.

They turned to go, only to be stopped by a call from Ezra.

"Gentlemen—" Ezra had pushed himself up on one elbow and was staring at the prone figure of Sarah Heisenberg. He swallowed hard. "Could you…do something about that?"

Heisenberg's head had all but disappeared down the gullet of a very large, very hungry snake. Baby eyed the horrified men with a lidless, unblinking, unrepentant stare.

Buck stared for a moment, remembering the fires, the terrified crowds, and Ezra, covered in blood, staggering toward him through the rain. All because of this woman and her greed.

The snake hitched forward and Heisenberg's nose slid out of sight.

Buck shook himself and stepped forward, grabbing a length of Baby and trying to figure out how to disentangle the snake from the snake woman.

"Little help here, fellas?" he called out. Neither Vin nor the Texas DA looked eager to lay hands on the oversized reptile.

There was a sudden scratching noise at the door. It burst open and a tiny spotted dog bounded into the cellar and dropped the mangled remains of a stuffed bunny on Ezra's chest.

 **Chapter 27: Ninjas or Pirates**

Something snaked out and latched onto his arm. With a start, he pulled away. It held tight, twisting and yanking at him.

He tried to roll away, tried to get a handle on what was happening. His world had been turned upside down. He was wet and coated with dirt. Shattered wood and other blown bits of garbage shifted off his back as he turned.

A concerned face peered at him. Lips moved. He heard nothing but a disconcerting ringing.

Nathan stared at the stranger. "Who are you?" he asked, but his own voice sounded muffled, as if his head was buried under a mound of pillows.

The look of concern faded into one of exasperation and the big man said something else. The words were blurred. Without waiting any longer, the man yanked on Nathan's arm, getting him to his feet without Nathan having to put any effort into the action.

The big stranger maneuvered one of his shoulders under Nathan's. He smelled reassuringly of baked goods and lemon – refreshing after the burning explosive odor that permeated his own clothing. The man then reached down for JD.

The kid blinked owlishly. Dunne spoke, but Nathan heard nothing. JD looked confused – probably suffering from the same affection as Nathan. He glanced to Nathan and his mouth moved again – his expression alarmed.

"I can't hear you," Nathan said. When JD spoke again, Nathan said, "WHAT?"

He was fairly sure that JD returned his question with the same silent word.

The stranger shook his head, looking aggrieved.

Nathan wanted to help, wanted to tell the man to be careful, to tell him about JD's injury, but the man moved too quickly. He wrestled young Dunne up in one quick movement, and wedged him under his arm.

"What happened?" Nathan tried to say. He had no idea if the man answered as he dragged the pair of them away. JD was speaking as well, looking befuddled and concerned.

Jackson looked back at the circle of stones and the scattered debris.

Explosive. Yes, there was an explosive. Something blew up. That explained the deafness.

Yes, he'd seen the dynamite in a boat – a tiny boat.

Nathan glanced about and frowned. Half a roller coaster stood there. Hadn't a full roller coaster been near them a moment ago? Well, that explained the wood and debris.

None of it explained the pirate though.

.7.7

Josiah was huffing trying to keep up with the crocodile woman and the wildman. Both dodged and dashed with ease through the destroyed carnival.

Sanchez regretted the fried dough he'd eaten earlier and missed his youth as he wheezed. The others were a good 30 feet in front of him and were reaching the merry-go-round when something caught his eye. Something dark moved along the roof of the sea-themed structure.

He slowed, sucking in air as he watched the shadows – two black forms shimmied – crawling to the edge of the roof, decorated to look like a tumultuous sea. They hunkered, they hunched, lurking just above where Ginny and Bobo were about to pass. The figures seemed to be wearing black silk pajamas.

"Look out!" Josiah shouted.

Ginny came to an instant halt and turned to face him. Bobo, set on his target, kept moving. The first shadow dropped from a giant starfish and onto the wildman. The second man hesitated, recalibrated, and leapt a moment later from the nose of a dolphin. Ginny, alerted, shifted out of the way. One black-clad figure latched onto Bobo's back while the other hit the ground behind Ginny and rolled.

Josiah grabbed his Schofield from its holster and fired into the air.

Bobo, who was spinning wildly, with the attacker piggy-backed, paused. Both men gazed at Josiah, then Bobo made a little shrug and started spinning again. The man closed his eyes and held on tightly. The other figure stopped long enough to look as well, but in that moment, Ginny lunged, slamming him to the ground.

With a sigh and a groan, Josiah jammed the revolver back into its holster and grabbed the nearest thing he could use as a weapon – a giant hammer used in the strongman 'ring the bell' game.

They certainly had a lot of these mallets laying around this carnival. Was there really such a need for a test of strength?

With a roar, he raised the hammer over his head and charged.

Bobo whirled like a dervish – and the pajama man held on for dear life. The attacker's eyes - the only thing truly visible – opened and then went wide when he saw the raised hammer coming toward him as he spun.

Josiah wielded the weapon as if it was Mjölnir. He swung it, coming within a hairs breadth of clipping off the attacker's nose.

The stranger shrieked and let loose of the wildman immediately. He whirled, tossed away and rolled as he hit the ground. He swayed as he stood, twisted and almost fell over.

Once he gained his balance, he raised his arms, splitting his attention between the crazy man with the hammer and the wild man who growled.

In the next moment, he ran.

The other was trying to survive under the onslaught of Ginny's fists. She had him almost subdued when he suddenly flung her off. She hit the ground hard and he pulled a weapon from his belt - a pair of sticks chained together – _nunchaku_ , if Josiah was not mistaken.

The man raised the weapon above his head, ready to swing it at the crocodile woman, when Josiah flung the hammer.

The mallet impacted the man on the side. He let out a pained "Oooof!" The joined sticks flew from his hands and he groaned as he fell. He flexed, then staggered to his feet. He seemed to contemplate retrieving either his weapon or the hammer.

Josiah charged him like an enraged bull.

The man wised up and made no further attempts to fight. He snagged the dropped sticks and ran in the same direction the other had taken – toward the partially destroyed roller coaster.

Josiah, if he was younger, would have followed. But, he was also wiser, and stayed to assist the others.

He helped Ginny to her feet. Bobo was still slowly spinning, looking like a drunk.

"Who were they?" Josiah asked once he was assured that Ginny was okay.

"Oh, that was Clyde and Morgan," Ginny said, annoyed. "Stupid ninjas. They aren't even Japanese. Anyone could tell they were Korean – and they're from New Jersey."

Josiah rested his hands on knees as he caught his breath. He was more than ready for the crazy to stop. Why had he allowed the others to convince him to come to the carnival? That's right – it was for the fried dough.

He was a sucker for Navaho Fry Bread.

He wondered if any of the stalls were still open.

When he looked up, something caught his attention. He smiled.

"Nathan!" he called. "Nate! JD!"

He raised one hand when neither seemed to hear him. A large man in an apron was between them. Jackson was propped up in one arm, and JD was being carried under his other arm as if he was toting a load of flour.

"Bernard!" Ginny shouted, happily. "Was that Heisenberg's father blowing up things?"

The baker made his way around the merry-go-round at a quick pace in spite of his burden. "He's still out there, Gin," he said. "These two were lucky they were protected by those rocks," he said, hefting the two men a little as he spoke about them. "Archie was sending his boats downstream with TNT. We were right about that 'Pirate Pete'."

Ginny blew out a breath, and shook her head. "Pirates and ninjas. Just what we need." She frowned at she looked at Nathan. "Nate, what did you do to yourself?"

Nathan shouted, "PIRATE!"

"Yeah, Nathan, pirate," Josiah said. "And ninjas."

"WHAT?" Nathan said in response.

"A ninja? Funny how that came up. I was reading about them recently. Ninja is a term from feudal Japan, it's a name for a mercenary," Josiah started explaining. "Their methods were considered dishonorable by many because they used espionage, assassination, sabotage…"

"WHAT?" Nathan said again. He was standing on his own now, trying to shake off the big baker. He looked rather damp.

Josiah went on, "They are rather unlike the samurai, who are considered to be honorable. They follow the Bushido code and…."

"WHAT?" JD shouted.

Josiah tried to illuminate, "I know it sounds strange but - well everything about this is strange so…" He paused when he looked to JD. The kid seemed paler than before – wet and dirty with debris. "JD, you okay? Nathan? You both alright?"

Both men looked a little annoyed with him.

Nathan pointed and shouted, "PIRATE!" again.

And they were thrown to the ground as another explosion rocked the area and the rest of the roller coaster shook and teetered.

TBC


	4. Part 4

**PART 4:**

 **Chapter** **28: Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines**

Josiah sat up, coughing through the dust that swirled around them. Sparks and splinters showered down, mixing with the last raindrops from the passing storm. The roller coaster had collapsed into a pile of charred kindling, drawing a small, horrified crowd of gawkers.

He looked around and saw Nathan crawling toward JD, who lay motionless on the ground. Ginny and Bobo were helping each other to their feet, staring toward the wreckage in shock. The big baker had run off to help some of the other victims.

The pirate that Nathan had spoken about was nowhere in sight.

"I'm going to see if anyone needs help. You see to JD," Josiah called out to the others. Ginny nodded and moved to help Nathan. Bobo was chasing after a round bit of wood, painted to look like a full moon that was rolling slowly away from the blast site.

"WHY DON'T YOU GO SEE IF ANYONE NEEDS HELP?" Nathan hollered over his shoulder.

Josiah rolled his eyes. "Good idea, Nate."

He headed toward the rubble, breaking into a trot as he spotted a pair of legs sticking out of a collapsed booth.

The legs were moving feebly and the steady stream of curses coming out from beneath the debris sounded oddly familiar.

"Chris?" Josiah called out, shoving the brightly painted boards out of the way until he uncovered the scowling face of Chris Larabee. "Chris! You all right?"

Larabee sat up, dust sifting out of his hair like flour. Josiah sniffed the air and realized it was flour. Flour and sugar. Larabee scowled at the question, and then looked around vaguely, as if he'd misplaced something important.

Josiah reached out and gave the half-flattened gunfighter a gentle shake.

"What just happened here?" he asked.

 _Two explosions earlier…_

 _.7.7.7_

 _The blast wave from Sureshot's dynamite sent Larabee flying. Without thinking, he curled around the little dog, trying to brace both of them for a hard landing._

 _His fall was cut short as something swooped him and the dog up and away. Opening his eyes, he found himself sprawled awkwardly on a small wooden bench in a small wooden box. He'd landed, he realized, on the rickety remains of the Ride to the Moon coaster – one lone coaster car, rattling along the battered and bent tracks, propelled by dynamite and gravity._

 _Larabee shook his aching head, trying to get his bearings as the fairgrounds blurred by. The dog leaned forward in his arms, scenting the air that rushed past them as the coaster car wobbled downhill. The coaster rounded a sharp turn, sending the two of them sliding across the bench, and then climbed a short hill._

 _At the top of the rise, the ride slowed and Larabee got his first good look at the sort of damage a stick of dynamite can do to a roller coaster._

 _Another downhill stretched ahead and at the bottom of the hill – nothing. The wooden supports had collapsed and the tracks sheared away. Even as he registered the trouble ahead, the little cart had started downhill, picking up speed as it closed in on the void._

 _Larabee braced both of his feet and one of his arms against the lacquered wood of the coaster car and wrapped the other arm around the dog. He closed his eyes again as the wheels clattered and skidded over the warped rails._

 _There was a clang like a broken bell as the coaster ran out of track. His stomach lurched and then he and the dog catapulted into thin air for the third time that afternoon._

 _Again, his flight was cut short – this time by the striped roof of a tent. The tent supports folded under the sudden weight, turning the structure into a striped canvas ramp._

 _Larabee yelled out a warning as the cart bounced down the slope and onto the rain-slicked fairgrounds. It skidded through the mud, on a collision course with a pair of men dressed in what looked like black long johns._

 _He caught a glimpse of their wide, disbelieving eyes staring out from behind black cloth masks, and then the cart crashed between them, sending them tumbling like ninepins._

 _The ride fishtailed to a stop at last, mired in the mud. Larabee staggered out onto semi-solid ground. He turned in a slow circle, taking in the teetering coaster, the charred tents and shell-shocked crowds, and the black-clad forms groaning on the ground before him._

 _"You okay?" he asked the closest pajama-clad casualty. He figured the pair must be carnival performers, but he couldn't for the life of him imagine what sort of act didn't require a man to put on pants._

 _The downed man cringed back from him, weakly brandishing a pair of sticks connected by a chain._

 _"I don't care what that woman says, no reward is worth this!" The man tossed his sticks away and hauled his friend to his feet. The pair of them limped away, leaning against each other, heading toward Cedar Ridge._

 _Larabee shrugged and turned his attention to the fairground, scanning for some sign of his men. The smoke from the earlier dynamite blast on the far edge of the fair had thinned to a wisp. He didn't need Ezra to calculate the odds that at least some of his friends had been somewhere near the blast._

 _A soft whine drew his attention to the dog he was still holding. It - he, Larabee revised after a quick check - peered up at him, still gnawing on the soggy remains of the rabbit._

 _"You ready to give me that thing?" he asked him, giving the bunny an experimental tug. The dog growled happily and tugged back. Something ripped, and Larabee found himself holding a drool-soaked bunny paw. He scowled at it, then at the dog._

 _Behind him, a rifle cocked._

 _"You ought to be dead six different ways by now, mister," Jimmy Sureshot said, sneering over the barrel of Vin's mare's leg as Larabee whirled to face him. Two muddy and disgruntled-looking carnies flanked Sureshot. One held a stick of dynamite at the ready._

 _"If you could hit anything you aimed at, I might be," Larabee said. Without breaking eye contact, he let the little dog squirm out of his arms and drop to the ground. The spotted terrier dropped to its haunches, watching the standoff with interest. Larabee's right hand hovered over his gunbelt, waiting for an opportunity._

 _A sudden hissing sound wrenched both men's attention away from each other. The henchman with the dynamite looked up from the newly-lit fuse, grinning._

 _"Why in hell'd you light the thing?" Sureshot yelled._

 _The man shrugged, still clutching the stick of dynamite as the fuse burned down. "Everybody else got to blow something up! I wanted a turn!"_

 _Sureshot grabbed the dynamite. "Gimme that thing!" He pivoted, took aim at Larabee, and let the dynamite fly. It sailed harmlessly over Larabee's head and lodged in one of the roller coaster's support beams._

 _Larabee and the dog were already running for cover. The carnies scattered as the fuse burned down to nothing._

 _The second explosion collapsed the Ride to the Moon completely._

 _The last thing Larabee saw, as he dove for cover in a fried dough booth, was the spotted dog running flat-out, away from the coaster and back toward town — with Sureshot limping in pursuit._

 _.7.7.7_

Larabee hauled himself to his feet with Josiah's help. He peered in the direction the dog and Sureshot had taken, but they were the least of his problems right now.

"How's Ezra?" he asked, watching Nathan at work over JD. "Any sign of Buck and Vin?"

Before Josiah could answer, they were interrupted by a warning shout from Nathan.

"PIRATE!"

 **Chapter 29: Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle**

Buck still held the python's tail as the dog accosted Ezra. He'd really rather help Vin deal with the dog, but nobody else had stepped forward to help with Heisenberg and the snake. The DA was working on the door, trying to open it. He stepped away with an unhappy expression, but made no attempt to assist with the snake removal.

 _Sons of bitches._

He tugged at the tail, trying to figure out how to pull it off Heisenberg's face. Baby looked at him with golden, pitiless eyes that seemed to say, "You're next."

Buck gulped and a shudder rolled over him. He didn't know what to do about Heisenberg. He pulled on the tail again, but Baby ignored him. It seemed content and was in no hurry as its jaw continued to unhinge.

Wilmington glanced to Ezra. Vin was trying to pull the dog off of him without success. It growled and nipped at him every time Tanner came near.

Ezra's hand was covered with bloody pinpricks. The snake must have bitten him earlier. Buck grimaced thinking that it had to smart.

Pythons, he figured, had more teeth than a viper did - all for gripping and holding. Yeah, this wasn't going to be pretty.

From under Buck's chin and around his neck, blood still oozing from the wounds the woman had inflicted. With one hand he maneuvered his bandana to mop up some of the distracting stuff. The other hand unenthusiastically clung to the snake's tail. He'd better hurry up and get this serpent off of her head. A snake on the face should hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. She wasn't squirming, so she apparently wasn't feeling anything.

He'd need a crowbar or some sort of lever. Maybe a post hole digger? Too bad there wasn't one of those giant mallets down here. That might help. He looked around half-heartedly for any sort of tool.

Baby didn't blink.

God, he didn't want to deal with this, and neither Tanner nor Matthews were even looking in his direction. _Assholes._

The scarred, one-eyed dog stood proudly on Ezra's chest and pawed – either trying to get his attention or attempting to bury the remains of the rabbit in his chest. It was hardly a bunny at all anymore – now little more than a body and a jaunty little tuft of a cottontail. The dog dug again.

"Ey," Vin said, sweeping with one hand. "Get off him."

The dog danced, growled, yipped and - when Ezra made a vague attempt to grasp the toy – snagged it and leaped directly at Vin. The terrier ran up and over his shoulder in a flash, leaving the esteemed hunter grasping at air.

Reflexively, the DA tried to stop the dog, but it ricocheted off his arm and dove toward Buck.

Buck, not paying attention, flinched as if snake-bit when the dog struck him. With a, "GAH!" he dropped Baby's tail. The terrier joyfully skittered away.

In his shock, Buck flung himself backward, colliding into one wall of the small cellar just as the door slammed open again and everyone froze.

An unpleasant-looking man shoved his face in as he raised a mare's leg and aiming it at Tanner. "Where's the damn rabbit!" Sureshot panted.

"Rabbit?" Vin asked innocently.

Sureshot didn't change his aim as he inclined his head toward Ezra. His sides were heaving as if he'd recently been running. "I know where he hid that necklace. All these fools runnin' around tryin' to find what's hid. At least, I know where to find a whole lot of purple gems - enough to set me up for life."

He flicked his gaze around the room and the finally, settled on the sight of his boss – slowly disappearing down the snake's gullet. "What the…" He let out a gasp of horror, just as the dog surged past him with the bunny bit still clenched in his teeth – up the stairs and through Sureshot's legs and out into the open air.

Vin, charging at him, snapped Sureshot out of his torpor. Jimmy spun and his bad leg collapsed under him as Vin collided.

"Thank you, kindly," Vin said, jerking the mare's leg out of his grip and giving Sureshot a kick to keep him down.

"Vi….osemite!" Buck shouted at him. "The dog! You got to get that bunny back! It has the evidence!"

Matthews gave Buck a narrow look, and then asked, "Evidence?"

"It's in the bunny!" Buck insisted as Ezra made a gesture at him, trying to get his attention, but he didn't seem to have the strength to speak.

Matthew's asked, "The Clarke money she was yammering about?"

At the mention, Ezra rallied. "$40,000 in gold and bank notes —fortune in jewelry and gold," he repeated dreamily, his eyes losing their lack-of-focus and gaining a keen edge for a moment or two. He licked his lips.

Buck shook his head sharply. "No, the evidence we brought from Four Corners." He grimaced, remembering that Vin wasn't supposed to know anything. "There's an expensive necklace inside that bunny."

"How'd it get there?" Vin responded incredulously, forgetting the charade as well.

Buck shrugged, wanting to say more, but knowing he had to keep his mouth shut. It hardly mattered anymore, he realized. The necklace was to prove that the woman hadn't been murdered. The DA was now well aware that she was alive and kicking. Buck stared down at the snake-and-woman by his feet. Well, not kicking and as for alive…

If Baby could wink, Buck was sure it'd do so at that moment.

The DA was doing his best to not look at the spectacle. Instead, he looked up, following the path that the 'evidence' had taken.

The signature necklace didn't matter anymore. Still, it was made from expensive gems, and Sureshot wanted it. Pissing off that 'sharpshooter' was reason enough to keep it out of his mitts. It was the principle of the matter.

Tan…ny! Tiny! Get just get the bunny!"

Vin gave Buck an annoyed look, slammed his boot down on Sureshot's shoulder to keep him prone, and then took off after the departing bunny-toting terrier.

Buck shook his head, dabbing at his stinging wound again with his bandana as he stared at the Heisenberg problem. The snake had inched its jaws forward. Soon her head would be totally inside.

"Matthews, can you lend a hand?" Buck called to the DA.

But Matthews was already halfway up the stairs. "That was the evidence? That torn up puff?"

Sureshot rolled onto his stomach and reached into the pocket of his awful striped jacket. "It's mine!" Jimmy said. From their angle below, Buck couldn't see what Sureshot was doing. Jimmy shouted, "Here's another gift from my friend, Pirate Pete!"

"Pirate?" Buck said, trying to fathom why a pirate was involved in any of this. Then, he heard the familiar sound of a lit fuse.

And suddenly, Buck abandoned his attempts of freeing Heisenberg from the snake. He grasped hold of Ezra, who was gamely trying to get up. He jerked Ezra to his feet. With one arm wrapped around Ezra's waist, he rushed to the stairs, shoving a hand against Matthew's back.

"Get out!" he shouted. "Run!"

All three stormed the stairs and the stick of dynamite flew over their shoulders and into the cellar, as Sureshoot took off at a loping run.

Buck didn't bother to watch the position of the explosive as it tumbled, nor did he figure the velocity – he could only do his best to get himself and Ezra – and Matthews as well – out of its path.

Buck felt sorry for the snake. But at least it solved his uncertainty with Heisenberg. Her fate was sealed.

 **Chapter** **30: Circle of Life**

The little terrier dodged left and right. His docked tail was held high as he lifted his hindquarters up over tent stakes. The patchwork terror darted between tents weaving in and out of legs, under and over debris with a tuff of unrecognizable bunny between clenched his teeth.

An explosion rolled the ground. Dog continued on without missing a beat. Dirt and debris rained down, making tiny splashes in standing water and thudding quietly in fresh mud.

The dog snarled and pirouetted to the right between the smoldering pie tent and tilting shooting gallery.

The terrier didn't miss a step, catching a passing whiff of baking goods.

He zipped onward toward a small gaggle of men and the familiar scaly lady.

The dog recognized the one man sitting on the ground. He didn't recognize the black coat, or sandy hair or even the scowl, but the peculiar mix of whiskey, cigarette and leather was familiar.

The terrier found a burst of speed and zigzagged his way toward this individual in a full sprint. His little docked tail remained high.

He ignored the tall greying mountain of a man helping the other up. The dog registered him, recognized his size and eye set, and dismissed him as inconsequential.

The dog slipped by the monster-sized man and bowled into the chest of the black clad human, knocking his playmate backward. The dog ricocheted off the human's chest and landed lightly on his feet just out of reach.

The dog growled and whipped his head back and forth. Bunny stuffing slapped the top and sides of his head. Bubbling with pure excitement, the terrier jumped straight up and spun 360 degrees with the rabbit still trapped tightly between his teeth.

"Josiah," Larabee rasped, "the dog." The gunslinger was knocked backward onto his heels. Unconscious muscle memory had him successfully avoiding sitting on his spurs. Four tiny muddy paw prints decorated his black, dust covered shirt.

"The dog?" Josiah stared at the tiny creature with one erect ear and toy remnants between snarling lips. Sanchez slid his gaze back to Larabee. The coaster crash might have been more damaging to Chris than he first thought.

"Get the bunny," Chris slowly climbed to one knee.

"The bunny?" Sanchez asked carefully. He eyed Chris with caution.

"The necklace," Chris explained. "Ezra put it in the bunny."

The dog bowed down on its front legs, wagging his docked tail vigorously. It slapped the ground with its paws and jerked his head left and right. Stuffing was flung back and forth.

"Get the dog, Josiah," Larabee rested his hand on his bent knee catching his breath.

"No wait," Ginny said. She scooped a piece of dried dough off the ground. She was familiar with the four-legged terror. The dog meant well. It just lacked a cooperative mindset.

She bent down and offered it to the dog. "Here, Petey. You good boy, Petey."

The terrier eyed the food and stretched his head forward.

As the dog stretched, Josiah lunged for it. His fingertips grazed the short, wiry, coat. The dog curled its torso sideways and bobbed his head. He came up and snatched the piece of dough without relinquishing the bunny. The dog leapt a few paces away. Dough and bunny remnant hung from his mouth. He wagged his tail and bounced about.

"Chris! Josiah!" Vin's voice had them all turning to the East. Tanner skidded to a stop beside Larabee.

Chris eyed the mare's leg. At least something was going right.

"We need Nathan, Ezra's hurt." Vin's quick glance took in the massive destruction in the immediate area. The smell of burnt wood, canvas and hair filled the air. A hint of sugary dough wafted in on the westerly breeze. His stomach growled.

"Get the dog," Chris rasped. His hand brushed his revolver, but he didn't have the heart to shoot the little monster, no more than he could possibly shoot Standish. His hand suddenly settled on the handle of his gun. "It has the bunny," Chris said, sighing, hating explaining this again.

"I know," Tanner responded, perplexed.

"Ezra put the necklace in it," Chris said.

All four turned to face the dog. The terrier spun around in a circle, mouth open, tongue lolling with no bunny or fried dough in sight. It gulped and wagged its tiny tail.

"He ate it?" Josiah asked incredulously. "But if the necklace…"

Tanner sighed and brushed the back of his hand across his forehead. He gazed off into the distance, past the smoldering tents and milling crowds. The sky was darkening. He could see prairie grass bending to a still unfelt breeze. A large shelf of clouds hung just beyond the carnival and town.

A strange shape caught his eye. Tanner took a half step forward and squinted. His heart picked up its pace.

"Josiah? You see that?"

Sanchez peered to the west and straightened. He sighed with resignation. "We got trouble, Chris."

Larabee stared at the dog with menacing intent. _When didn't they have trouble?_

Ginny followed Vin's line of sight. Her scaled hand shot to her mouth.

Just then Nathan hurried toward them manhandling a lagging JD.

"Get moving! Get moving!" Vin shouted.

"We got to get to the cellar," Ginny whispered with palpable panic.

"I think the pirate blew it up," Tanner murmured.

Somewhere, unseen a panicked voice shouted, "Twister!"

 **Chapter** **31: Catacombs**

Ezra coughed and shoved at the meaty object pinning him into the ground. He had had quite enough of being encircled and squeezed and squashed for one afternoon, thank you very much.

The weight shifted, grumbling. Finally, Buck rolled off him to land in the mud and debris with a thump. Buck blinked up at the sky for a moment, swiping streaks of his own blood and atomized snake bits from his face. His gaze turned sluggishly in Ezra's direction.

"'Ey, Ez," he sighed.

"Buck," Ezra drawled in return, wrapping a protective arm around his punctured midsection. If nothing else, the constrictor seemed to have done a passable job of keeping pressure on the wound. The bleeding had stopped. Best not to tell Nathan about this, he decided. The man might start stockpiling snakes in his medical kit.

Townsfolk scurried by, barely glancing toward the latest explosion, or the plume of greasy smoke billowing out of the wrecked root cellar. Ezra wrinkled his nose in disgust as the wind picked up and raindrops began to pelt them again.

Buck rolled up on one elbow. "What say we find a nice dry saloon to hole up in 'til the others turn up?" he said, looking around for some sort of structure that hadn't been blown up or overrun with frantic fairgoers. Nothing looked promising.

Ezra mirrored his movement, using Buck as an unwilling prop to push himself unsteadily to his feet. He swayed for a moment, surveying the fairgrounds through the storm's gathering gloom, and then started limping straight toward the chaos.

Buck scrambled to follow. "The town's back that-a-way, Hoss," he said, flapping a hand behind them.

A wide, greedy smile spread across Ezra's pale face.

"Ah," he said. "But the treasure is this-a-way."

There was a squawk of protest behind them, as the Texas district attorney picked himself off the ground and trailed after them.

"What?" Matthews called out, limping to catch up. "How on earth could you possibly know the location Clarke Gang treasure? You've been locked in a cellar just like the rest of us!"

Ezra rolled his eyes so hard he momentarily lost his balance. Buck obligingly steadied him.

"That snake wasn't wrapped around my ears," Ezra said with a sniff. "I took time to familiarize myself with this flea circus when we arrived, and I can tell you with some certainty that it boasts only one attraction with a pirate theme."

The three injured men continued their trek. None of them noticed the sky behind them shading to sickly green as the storm clouds parted and a funnel came spiraling down.

.7.7

The tornado churned across the salt flats north of town, uprooting scrub trees and tossing them toward the heavens as it bore down on the battered fairgrounds.

The sight sent the crowd into complete panic; a terror Nathan might have shared if he'd been facing in the right direction.

He shoved JD into Larabee's arms, gesturing for him to get the boy to the dubious shelter of town. He could see Josiah frown at him, his lips moving in a question, but Nathan shook his head impatiently, gesturing toward his still-ringing ears. Larabee rolled his eyes, tightened his grip on JD, and a moment later was lost from sight in the fleeing crowd.

Nathan pivoted and nearly tripped over Ginny's long skirts. She was gesturing frantically at something behind him. Nathan gestured just as frantically at something just over her shoulder. Honestly, was he the only one around here worried about the pirate?

A heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder. Josiah tugged at him, trying to turn him back toward town. Nathan shook him off. Beside him, Ginny pointed toward the sky and her elegant, scale-covered hands moved in a frantic twirling pantomime. But Nathan had always been terrible at charades, and he was damned if he was going to let that madman with the dynamite hurt any more of his friends.

He took a deep breath, took hold of Ginny's shoulders, giving her a level stare. They'd known each other a lifetime ago, when she was a sideshow star, sneaking food to the scared runaway who mucked out the animal cages. She taught him knife-throwing tricks. He boiled up salves to ease the ache and itch of the skin condition that had made her such a prized attraction. Until the war came.

Even after all those years, Ginny could still read him like a book. With a reluctant nod, and a final uneasy glance toward the horizon, she fell into step beside him. Nathan didn't need to turn to know that Josiah was following on their heels.

Ahead was one of the last unexploded attractions on the fairgrounds. The carousel glittered in the dim light. Instead of horses, the ride boasted carvings of frolicking dolphins and mermaids and saddled sea creatures. Paintings of pirate ships, jolly rogers snapping in the painted breeze, covered every surface.

The carousel rotated slowly, pushed by the gusting winds. As the sea creatures twirled by, Nathan caught glimpses of the shadowy figure of the pirate, crouched beside a rearing sea horse.

The old man sported an eyepatch — currently shoved up on his forehead — and a stick of dynamite — currently shoved into the sash holding up his tattered breeches. A grubby vest and a tarnished brass hoop in the ear completed the slapdash pirate costume. His grizzled face was creased in a sneer, and Nathan had the oddest feeling that he'd seen that ugly mug somewhere before.

The half-familiar pirate ride operator was half-turned away from Nathan, his attention fixed on some distant point in the crowd. Lightning flashed, bleaching the old man's profile into harsh black and white lines, and the memory clicked into place. Some long-ago train robber, sneering out from one of the faded wanted posters JD kept tacked around the sheriff's office.

The light faded and Nathan, Josiah and Ginny crept closer, weaving between the coaster rubble. Nathan eased a throwing knife out of the sheath at his back, and noticed Ginny slipping one of her knives out from under her skirts.

The pirate straightened with a whoop, yanking out the stick of dynamite and fishing in his pockets for a match.

Nathan followed the pirate's gaze to two figures weaving toward the merry-go-round. Ezra and Buck. Of course. If there was dynamite, the two of them were bound to be somewhere nearby. Josiah thumped him on the shoulder once, then slipped away, angling through the rubble, trying to intercept their friends before they crossed the pirate's path.

Nathan took note of the drying bloodstain that covered far too much of Ezra's torso, and the tattered condition of Buck's face and chest. Then, belatedly, he took note of the enormous funnel cloud looming behind them. He shot a sidelong glare at Ginny, who glared back, making the swirly-tornado gesture at him again. Oh.

As one, the old friends rose to their feet and took aim at the pirate. Their knives arced through the gloom and Nathan grimaced as the wind blew both of them off-target.

One knife missed entirely, and stuck, vibrating, in the center of a mermaid's smiling face. The second lodged in the pirate's shoulder, instead of his throat. It was enough, at least, to make him drop the dynamite and scuttle away.

Nathan was already sprinting toward his friends, into a headwind that seemed to push him back two steps for every one he took forward. Wind-blown grit and debris scoured at him, stinging any exposed skin.

Ezra and Buck were running just as frantically toward him, propelled by Josiah, who had a hand planted firmly in the middle of each of their backs. Debris clouted his head and shoulders as he acted as a human shield between the injured men and the twister.

Nathan finally managed to latch on to Ezra's sleeve, just as Ginny grabbed his free hand and yanked him back toward the merry-go-round.

Nathan kept his grip on Ezra, who kept his grip on Josiah, who kept his grip on Buck, who kept his grip on a stranger who looked almost as battered as they did. Anchored by Ginny, Nathan hauled them back toward the dubious shelter of the carousel like a line of damp laundry.

Ginny beckoned them closer, mouthing something that Nathan couldn't hear over the roar of the wind and the ringing in his ears. She was crouched against the base of the ride, holding open a small access door that the ride operators probably used to maintain the equipment.

Nathan squinted into the dim cramped interior of the ride. Inside, he could see greasy gears and enough room — barely — for half a dozen adults to cram inside.

Ginny wriggled through the opening and Nathan shoved the others in after her, first the stranger, then Buck, then Josiah.

He turned, and realized Ezra was no longer next to him.

"DAMNIT, EZRA!" he hollered, lunging toward the gambler, who had wandered off to study the gaudy bits of glass and gilt that covered the nearest carved dolphin. He caught Ezra by the collar and sent him stumbling toward the dubious shelter of the carousel's interior.

Something slammed into the back of Nathan's knees, sending him sprawling to the ground. It was the pirate, his eyes wild and his grey hair twisted into demented peaks by the wind. The old man flailed his fists at Nathan, mouthing curses.

"WHAT?" Nathan yelped, kicking out at the crazy pirate as the twister roared closer. The wind caught the shattered roller coaster beams and sent them hurtling across the fairgrounds like splintered spears.

An arm swam out of the gloom and latched onto Nathan, yanking him back toward the hatch. The healer kicked himself free of the pirate and scrabbled into the ride's dim, crowded interior. He landed with a thump, sprawled across someone's legs, with someone else's fingers knotted in a death grip on his shirt and something hard and metallic digging into his ribs.

The pirate, his mouth open in a soundless howl, lurched after him.

The old man's fingers curled around the door frame and he glared at the intruders, even as the wind swept his feet out from under him. For a moment, he clung to the door frame, the rest of his body flapping like a tattered flag in the wind.

And then he was gone. Nathan braced his legs as the same wind clawed at him, tugging him toward the swirling darkness.

Nathan closed his eyes and waited for the storm to take them all.

TBC


	5. Part 5

**PART 5:**

 **Chapter 32: Inconceivable**

Harold James Wrigley – most recently known as Jimmy Sureshot – bit off a chunk of his chaw as he waited in the blown out cellar. His leg still stung from the shot fired by that mangy Texan and he was damn tired of all this running around. He needed the rest.

He would kill that Texan before the day was over. He'd killed plenty already today and another body from the Lone Star State could be burned as easily as the rest.

He glared out at the undulating tornado. It had taken a glancing blow at the ridiculous pirate themed carousel, but the device was left mostly unscathed. Too bad. It was a horrible eyesore. It would be better if the ridiculous merry-go-round had been obliterated. It was a pointless and worthless thing.

He watched as the twister moved to the wreck of the roller coaster and started scattering broken boards.

The Forbidden Planet was a hellhole. It the deserved the destruction, he decided.

He ducked deeper into the ruined cellar as shards flew, trying to ignore the bits of snake and society matron that splattered the stairs.

He hadn't liked her much, and - as he rested one hand on a step, touching something sticky - he liked her even less. He glared at the muck under his hand, and chewed less enthusiastically at his tobacco.

He wiped the sticky hand on his jacket. He frowned, remembering that it was his favorite striped blazer – a fine piece of clothing. Damn.

He hadn't minded the killing. He took pride in his abilities. He just wanted his payment

It didn't look as if they'd ever find the treasure now, and the necklace had slipped through his fingers, along with the rat-bag dog. The jeweled Blue Moon was out there somewhere still. His hand moved down to rest on the pistol he'd liberated from one of the dead. He'd rather liked the mare's leg, but this would do just fine. There'd be no stopping him now.

The tornado had moved past the wrecked ride, so he crept from his hole. The twister hadn't gone far, but it was hard to believe that it could double back.

It was time to get back to work. He'd kill that little dog, slit the little beast's belly open if necessary. The jewels would be his. He'd kill any of those men that got in his way. He'd end up a rich man. Any other result was inconceivable.

"Hey, you," a voice called.

Sureshot turned sharply to find that mares' leg pointed at his face. Dammit!

"Come out of there, nice and slow."

His hand hovered over the pistol as he crept the rest of the way from the cellar. "Hold on there," he said. "I just aim to get what's promised to me, that's all." It was breezier than he expected when he stepped clear – as if the winds had shifted.

"There's still a jail cell still available in town, I reckon," the other man said. The end of the weapon was waggled at him. "Put your hands up and we'll find you a spot."

"I was just doin' my job," Sureshot said.

"Seems a lot of killin' has gone down here," the Texan drawled. "Seems it's time you paid for what you done."

"That's not happening," Sureshot said. Didn't he understand? Harold Wrigley was bound for greatness! "I deserve better than this!"

"You deserve somethin', that's for sure," the other man said.

The wind picked up suddenly, and the Texan's expression changed. His jaw dropped as he took a sudden step back. Sureshot grinned and took his chance. He'd take out the other man – no other result was possible.

He went for his pistol as the Texan lifted the mare's leg again. But neither man fired. In the end, the Texan had only enough time to get out of the way as a flying merry-go-round shark came out of the sky like a spear, whistling, - nearly screaming through the air.

It landed with such velocity, the pole went right through Sureshot, square in the back of his awful striped jacket. It went through him like a knife through butter - pinning him to the ground - with a wet _THWUNK_.

Sureshot let out one final gasp, and then he breathed no more.

"Huh," the Texan said. "Didn't expect that."

It took some doing, but he pulled his attention from Sureshot, and frowned as he squinted at the grinning shark, its head resting on top of the sharpshooter's. Its jeweled harness sparkled, even in the murky light.

.7.7.7

They huddled within the merry-go-round, clutching the inner workings and each other in the tight space. The whole thing shook like a boiling pot for a moment, and then quieted. Packed inside like sardines, the occupants sighed in relief.

When Nathan made a move to open the hatch, Buck stopped him, holding up a finger in the dimness. "Hang on there," he said. "It might not be over yet."

Nathan had a look of annoyed resignation as he asked, "WHAT?"

Buck edged back, unsure about the shout until the crocodile-woman explained. "He can't hardly hear. He was near one of those explosions." She touched Nathan's arm, her expression sympathetic.

And then the little room started to shake again. They held onto each other, clutching the machinery and each other as the little building shook furiously around them.

Something came loose over their heads as board peeled away – sucked into the maelstrom. Dirt and debris littered down, and their hair lifted as the air swirled in. They ducked their heads and held on.

Standish tried to keep a grip on the inner structure, but his hands barely seemed to hold. Josiah wrapped an arm around him, determined to anchor his friend and not let the terrible wind lift him away.

Matthews held onto the machinery with both hands, looking at the others with incredulous eyes, as if he couldn't quite fathom anything like this happening to him.

There was one more tremendous shake, and then all was quiet again.

They froze – waiting. Silence. Silence filled the little space. Finally, stillness.

Buck checked on the others. Nathan was curled up with the strange-looking woman, his arms fully around her in a most familiar way. Her head tucked against his chest. Josiah had Ezra, letting the weary man rest against him, holding him carefully. Buck was stuck with Matthews and they were trying not to touch each other.

"Ezra," Josiah called softly, worriedly, as Ezra's eyes closed and his head dipped. "Ezra?"

"Something got him good," Buck explained, keeping some space between himself Matthews.

"'M fine," Ezra mumbled. "Never better." But he didn't open his eyes, nor did he lift his weight from Josiah. "Right as rain. I meant to spend my day like this."

Buck chuckled at that.

Nathan glanced around at the space, and looked to Buck before he shouted, "YOU THINK IT'S OVER?" Beneath him, the scaled woman cringed from the loud voice, and then laughed.

Nathan didn't know how to take that. He frowned, looking annoyed as he rubbed at one ear.

Buck nodded, "It'd better be done!"

Ezra sighed, uttering, "I can't quite conceive of anything else going wrong."

The shriek of metal made them all jump, even Nathan, who protectively wrapped his arms tighter around the young woman. She gave him a jab to the belly to make him loosen his hold.

There was another odd sound, and a heavy thump outside the hatch, and then, with a creek, the little door opened.

"You okay in there?" a voice called.

The woman sighed in relief and the hatch was pulled fully open. Buck recognized the big baker, who'd clothes-lined him earlier. The baker leaned in, looking thankful, until he spotted Buck. "You!" he shouted.

"You!" Buck echoed, changing his position in the small space. "Why I ought to…"

Without another word, the big man reached in and grabbed hold of Buck, pulling him through the hole in one quick action, dumping him to the wreckage outside. Bobo cavorted nearby, looking worried and excited at the same time.

A quick glance showed the utter destruction of the fair. The merry-go-round had been torn apart, all of the sea creatures peeled away and strewn. Only the central structure intact. Hardly anything else remained of the Forbidden Planet. Everything had been laid waste.

Buck sputtered, getting quickly to his feet, ready to fight if necessary, but the baker just rolled his eyes. "Help me with the rest of them," he said. "Bobo! Don't touch anything sharp. Stay nearby!"

With a nod, Buck agreed to the truce. He leaned in to help the baker get Matthew's out of the way, and then to carefully pull Ezra from the mess. The others came out quickly afterward. The woman went stock still once she was free - looking aghast at the destruction around her.

"Oh," she said quietly, holding a hand to her mouth. "Oh," she said again, and then hugged the wild man and the baker.

It was only once she released him that the baker turned on Buck. "How dare you speak ill of my Lemon Surprise. How dare you! Do you have any idea how long I worked on that pie?" He clenched his hands at his sides as he leaned over Wilmington.

Buck stepped back, rubbing his jaw and remembering their meeting earlier that day. "It tasted like sawdust, pard," he said as judiciously at possible. "And now really ain't the time."

The woman shook her head. "Bernard is always putting in too much thickener. What did I tell you, Bernie?"

"I don't like a runny pie," Bernard said. "It's impossible to believe that anyone would like that."

Buck swallowed his pride and muttered, "You got a point there." He glanced to the others for support, but Ezra was losing his fight with consciousness. Nathan had eased was trying to examine him while Josiah carefully held him.

Ezra only had eyes for a frilly-looking, saddle-wearing fish, lying broken in the wreck of the merry go round. He reached out one hand to rub a finger against a shiny bauble decoration. He touched it feebly, no strength left in him.

Buck narrowed his eyes, not believing what he was seeing.

 **Chapter 33: Forbidden Planet**

Larabee kept a firm grip on the only one of his men who hadn't vanished into the storm.

JD staggered, buffeted by the rising wind. Larabee pulled him onward, searching for shelter in a landscape of flimsy booths, canvas tents and charred rubble. The little dog ran worried circles around them.

The shattered Ride to the Moon coaster loomed ahead, its jagged beams shifting ominously in the wind. He didn't need to turn to know the twister was heading their way. He could hear it roaring like an oncoming freight train.

The dog let out a high-pitched bark and darted toward the collapsed coaster.

JD tugged on his arm and pointed after the dog. There in the rubble was a dark, cavelike opening. It was the closest thing to shelter they were likely to find. The two men staggered toward it, chased by the screaming winds.

A wooden tunnel yawned before them, buttressed by collapsed beams. Once they scrambled inside, the wind cut off so abruptly, the two men tumbled to the ground. Coughing, Larabee looked down and saw stars between his fingers. He turned his head and saw a cratered blue moonscape painted along one wall. Little painted men hung upside-down in their painted lunar explorer, still peering out at him through their opera glasses. Rail tracks ran across the ceiling above. Somehow, the dynamite blast had sent one of the roller coaster tunnels crashing to the ground, almost in one piece.

Squinting into the gloom, Larabee realized they weren't alone. Rubble blocked the tunnel's far exit and crouched against the barrier were a bedraggled pair of carnies in black masks and black long johns. The spotted terrier sat on its haunches between them, its stub tail wagging madly. As Larabee watched, it licked the last stray bits of bunny fluff off its whiskers.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, frozen. Then something blotted out the weak sunlight and the world filled with a godawful roar that sent them all diving to the ground.

Larabee threw himself over JD. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the carnies curl protectively over the little dog. The world outside the tunnel went black. A solid wall of wind-blown debris churned by, howling, erasing everything in its path.

Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the funnel lifted, spiraling up and away. Its locomotive roar faded to a soft breeze. The sky lightened back to daylight.

Larabee looked up at the painted moon, amazed that the rattletrap shelter had held together. Then JD let out a squawk of protest, batting weakly at him. He rolled off the kid's ribs and did his best to settle him more comfortably. He eased JD's muddy jacket off and rolled it into a pillow. It was unexpected lumpy. Was the kid lugging rocks around in his pockets? No wonder he had trouble dodging bullets.

He shucked off his own coat and draped it over JD, watching the kid's eyelids flutter as he fought to stay awake. As soon the kid drifted off, Larabee turned his attention to the bedraggled figures in the corner.

"You two," he growled, pivoting toward the carnies. "You tried to hit me with sticks."

The men in black flinched back in tandem. One jumped to his feet and flailed his arms wildly.

"Stand back, mister," he warned, voice quavering. "My hands are lethal weapons."

Larabee unholstered one of his guns and sighted down the barrel.

"My _weapon_ is a lethal weapon," he said, cocking the pistol for emphasis.

The other carny punched his friend in the arm, hard.

"We don't want no trouble, honest," he told Larabee. His friend rubbed his shoulder glumly and nodded. "We never wanted no trouble. Just a paycheck."

"Hand that dog over, then," Larabee sighed, holstering his gun when the two men quickly shooed the terrier toward him.

Larabee scooped up the dog and nodded his head toward the tunnel exit. Sunlight was peeking through the clouds and he could hear voices calling out across the ruined fairgrounds.

The pajama-clad figures nodded gratefully and scrambled toward the exit. They skidded to a halt when Larabee called after them.

"Tell somebody we're here and we need help. The kid's hurt."

The two men glanced back at JD, resting beneath the battered moon mural. Asleep, the kid looked pale, in pain and very, very young.

When Larabee glanced back toward the strangers, they had vanished.

"Might as well get comfortable," Larabee informed the dog, who sat back on its haunches, panting happily up at him. "You got a belly full of evidence. You're not going anywhere."

The dog cocked his head up at him. Then, almost as if it understood, it trotted to JD's side, curled up against him, yawned once, and fell asleep, snoring. Larabee scowled down at the horrible little creature. When the time came, he was going to make damn sure that he wasn't the one waiting on the wrong side of a dog, shovel in hand.

He paced to the tunnel exit, scanning the mess out at the mess outside for some sign of the others.

Figures were beginning to move across the soggy landscape, poking through the collapsed tents and booths, salvaging what they could. From time to time, someone would let out a glad cry and rush to reunite with another muddy figure who had been spared by the storm.

A gleeful whoop echoed across the fairgrounds and Larabee felt something unknot in his chest.

Buck was scrambling between the flattened fair booths, crouched low, eyes on the ground like a little boy on an Easter egg hunt. From time to time, he'd pick something off the ground and either toss it aside or pocket it with a satisfied nod.

He was so focused on the ground, he nearly walked right into Larabee when he stepped out into the sunlight to intercept him.

"Looking for something?" he drawled.

Buck let out an even louder whoop and caught him up in a rib-creaking hug. "Knew you'd ride out the storm just fine, ol' dog!" Buck said, ducking around him to check on JD. "Couple-a peculiar fellas in black pajamas told us the two of you were holed up here."

He ruffled the kid's hair, frowning when JD didn't even stir. The dog yawned, licked Buck's knuckles, and curled tighter into the crook of JD's arm

"He's just sleeping, I think," Larabee whispered. He wasn't sure why he bothered. The kid was probably still deaf as a post from that dynamite blast. "I'd feel better if we could find Nathan to take a look at him."

Buck bounded to his feet with a grin and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Nathan, Josiah and Ez should be along any minute," he said, his attention already focused back on the ground. Something caught his eye and he started moving toward a flattened fry bread booth.

"Hang tight, Chris," he called over his shoulder. "Only way we could get Ezra off his feet was if I promised to do the treasure hunting for him."

Buck snatched something off the ground with another triumphant whoop and moved away, still searching the ground.

Larabee gaped after him. "Treasure?" he yelled after him. "What treasure?"

"This one, probably," a familiar voice drawled. Larabee whirled to find Vin standing there with blood in his hair and a huge grin on his face. One of his arms was wrapped around a tacky, glittery carousel animal. A golden rod ran through the creature. The bottom half of the pole was splashed bright crimson.

Larabee cocked an eyebrow at Vin's prize. "A fish?"

"Think it's a shark," Vin said, giving the thing an affectionate pat. "Saw one once, down in the Gulf of Mexico. This one came flying out of the tornado. Like some sort of shark-nado."

Vin held out his other hand to display a hunk of blue glass the size of a matchbox. Larabee blinked and leaned closer.

It wasn't glass.

 **Chapter 34: Blue Moon**

"Brothers!" they heard the cheerful call of Josiah as he came toward them through the wreckage. Nathan walked with him, with Ezra carefully carried between them. "We are reunited at last!"

"HEY!" Nathan shouted happily. "WHERE'S JD!"

"Inside," Chris told him.

"WHAT?" Nathan replied.

Josiah gave him a beleaguered look as they came into the little group. He smiled when he saw JD within the tunnel, and directed Nathan to help him bring Ezra in as well.

Standish was slack in their hands, pale and unmoving. Nathan had that worried look that always found him when one of them were hurt, but he didn't seem overly anxious. Apparently, Ezra wasn't going to die.

Of course, he hadn't faced Larabee's wrath yet about the dog eating the evidence.

"Ginny and the rest went in search of shelter," Josiah told them as they moved into the tunnel. "She's sure that her folk secured someplace by now. Someone will come fetch us."

They settled Ezra beside JD, and the little dog's tail spun about as he found a new bed, ensconced between the two men. Neither of them stirred. After ensuring that Ezra wasn't any worse, Nathan bent to check on JD, giving the little mutt a pat.

The little terrier seemed delighted in the attention, almost grinning in return.

Chris frowned at the creature, grumbling, "I can't believe that mutt ate the evidence."

"What?" Buck exclaimed, eyeing the dog. "That stuffed bunny went down its gullet?"

Larabee sneered as he went on, "I swear to God, Standish is going to be one the retrieving it when it comes out the other end. He'd better be awake for it."

Vin chuckled at that, "He'd do pretty much anythin' for pretty jewelry, but I imagine even he might balk at that."

Buck laughed, "I can't imagine it. Not something you'd see every day. At least we don't need it as evidence."

Chris frowned. "Why not? A man's gonna hang unless we can prove that Sarah Heisenberg isn't dead."

Vin and Buck both sighed.

"She isn't," Buck said, and then corrected himself. "She wasn't. I mean, she wasn't, and now she is."

"What are you talking about?" Chris questioned.

"Snake got her head," Vin explained, making a little gesture to illustrate the situation. "Then a pirate blew her up. Boom!" He flung his hands up. When Chris gave him a strange look, he went on. "That Texas DA got a gander at her while she was still in one piece, so he knows about it." Vin looked out into the rubble of the Forbidden Planet, spotting Leander Matthews meandering in the distance. "Her husband won't hang for that, but he probably will for other reasons."

He stepped back into the tunnel as if he didn't want the man to spot him.

"Still," Josiah said, eyeing the dog, who was poking his nose into everything Nathan did, wanting to play nurse as Nathan checked JD's bandages. Nathan let him. Josiah went on, "That necklace is going to make it's appearance eventually."

The men stepped away from the dog – only those who were oblivious didn't cringe away from the pending doom.

Nathan continued checking on JD, feeling around his head to make sure that Dunne didn't have any head injuries as well. As he prodded, he frowned, and carefully poked at the jacket that pillowed JD's head. "WHAT'S IN HERE?" he asked, and then quietly added, "There's something hard, right under his head."

"Might be marbles, cookies, coins, who knows." Buck replied.

"Somethin's under my head," JD muttered, blinking up at Nathan. "Pokin' me."

Nathan smiled at first, to see JD looking up at him, then sighed when JD spoke. With a discontented look, he poked a finger in his ear, wiggling it. "How you doin', JD?" Nathan asked.

"HUH?" JD responded.

"WHAT?" Nathan replied.

The rest of the men groaned. This was getting old.

With one hand, Nathan helped JD lift his head and then felt around at whatever had troubled him. His hand slipped into a pocket and, after a moment, his expression changed, and he pulled something free.

It sparkled in the low light.

JD gasped, seeing the necklace held above him. "The Blue Moon!" he cried. He frowned. "It was in my pocket?" He looked to Nathan, wanting an answer even if he was unable to hear anything. Jackson sat back on his heels, looking in wonder at the treasure.

The rest of them leaned closer to stare at the beautiful piece of jewelry in Nathan's hand, then at the dog. Petey looked smug as his little tail beat the sides of the men who formed his bed.

Finally, all of them – including the little dog - looked at Ezra. He continued to sleep, unaware of the scrutiny.

 **Chapter 35: Forgiveness**

He was aware of the murmur of voices, all muddled. His side ached fiercely, and his hand felt as if it were full of pins. For a while, He drifted in and out, lost. Then, almost without conscious effort, he blinked and looked out into the sunlit room.

Everything blurred. He was aware of long narrow windows – and dark benches – a church? He blinked again, trying to understand.

Something shifted beside him and a man looked down on him. He had a nicely trimmed Van Dyke beard and his long hair was plaited into braids. His face was remarkably handsome. Ezra's gaze drifted downward slightly, taking in an ample bosom.

"He's awake," a feminine voice said. A hand patted him gently. "Hello there."

It took a moment before he could speak. "Hello," Ezra returned, his mouth feeling thick. "Pleased t'meet you." He shifted in his space, feeling the pull of the wound at his hip. He gasped.

"Keep still," the figure said. "Dolly and Polly, can you girls keep an eye on him while I fetch his friend?"

"Sure, Emmie," two high voices said in unison.

Ezra watched as the bearded woman stood, smiling at him. "Be right back," she promised and then turned to make her way down the pew.

"How you feeling?" one high voice asked.

"You okay?" another voice spoke, so similar to the first that he would have thought the phrases had been spoken by the same person – except for the overlap.

He blinked again and changed his gaze to peer at two small heads looking over the top of the pew in front of him.

"Been better," Ezra admitted as he shifted on the wooden seat, wincing at the pain as he slowly sat up.

The two tiny women laughed together. "Not a surprise," they both stated. They seemed to be clinging to each other, locking each other in an embrace on the other side of the pew.

He moved his hand, finding it somewhat numb – bandaged.

"Snakebit," someone else said. A man moved beside the two little women. He stood with his hands on his hips as he gazed down. His elbows spread so far, they looked almost like wings. He pointed at Ezra's bandaged hand, his arm moving like an insect's. "Never seen the like of that before. It'll be okay, they say."

"Yes," Ezra said, as he drew the bandaged hand to his chest, remembering the bite he'd received earlier. It didn't hurt badly and hopefully would leave no permanent damage. His hands, after all, were his life.

There was the sound of a tussle and Ezra looked about, spotting an enormously obese man sitting on the steps that led to the church's altar. Standing next to him was an impossibly thin and tall man. He was so lean, his joints seemed like knobs under his jacket, so tall he had to bow his head to avoid the ceiling beam. They were watching a squat gentleman noisily wrestling with a bear in the space at the front of the church. A hunchbacked woman moved to get out of their way, cackling at the activity. She joined a crone who was smoking a pipe, using her toes to hold the stem of it since she didn't seem to have any arms.

The bear was enjoying the sport, and hugged the little man tightly. The man wrestled with a serious intensity, only to be constantly put in his place by the bruin.

If the people standing over him noticed Ezra's staring, they paid it no mind, they were obviously used to such behavior. He cleared his throat and asked, "The tornado? Anyone hurt?"

The long-armed man sighed. "It's over," he said, and shook his head. "I don't think anyone died in the storm, but the fire got plenty. A lot of the folks who did evil are dead." He looked contemplative and said, "A lot of innocent folk are gone as well, I'm afraid."

"A lot of folk," the two tiny women echoed.

Ezra tried to sit up. "My friends?" he tried.

"JD is over there," Dolly or Polly said, and a hand gestured.

"He's sleeping," the other said.

Ezra noted the kid, not far from him on the same pew, sleeping soundly. He sighed, thankful.

Before he could ask anything else, Buck shouted "Ezra!" and he clomped up the aisle. "Lookit you! Finally awake." He smiled as he passed JD, giving him a thoughtful pat. "You missed JD. He was awake just a few minutes ago."

Ezra smiled to see his friend, and then asked, "Where are we?"

Buck laughed and raised his arms. "The Cedar Ridge church. These kind folks found refuge here and let us come join them. The town's pretty full up."

The beautiful bearded woman had returned with him, walking along the other pew. She smiled coyly at Wilmington as she approached the others. "Come on, girls." She offered an arm. "Let's give them some room." She easily picked up the two women together, and Ezra was able to school his expression enough to hide the shock of seeing two heads on one tiny body.

"Hope you feel better," both women said together.

Emmie moved off, easily toting Dolly and Polly, whose convoluted appendages seemed too tangled to allow the twins to move without help. The man nodded a farewell and went with them, his long arms looking awkward in the tight space between the pews.

"That's one hell of a woman," Buck said, indicating Emmie. "Never kissed a girl with a mustache before. It was a new experience, to say the least." He brushed at his own, grinning thoughtfully. "It tickles."

She looked over her shoulder and smiled.

"One hell of a woman," he repeated. He added, "And you should have seen that fella when I first laid eyes on him." He indicated the long armed man. "'Sid the Squid' - he had this suit made of tentacles – looked fiercely real. Fooled me at the start. Why, I…"

"Buck," Ezra called him back. "Where is everyone? Are they…"

"Everyone's fine, Ezra," Buck stated. "JD, too." He nodded to the kid. "The others are out helping to get things cleaned up. There's one hell of a mess out there. Everything was just torn apart with the fire and the weather and all the trouble. There's merry-go-round fishes were thrown all over."

Ezra stiffened. "The carousel! The … sea creatures – were they recovered intact?" He licked his lips. "The augmentations included?"

Buck shook his head, laughing. "You talkin' about the jewels, Ezra? Seems that most of them stayed glued in place on the fishies. Ain't no need for you to go out on an Easter Egg hunt just now. We got plenty of folks out there looking. They've been able to find a few of the lost jewels and brought them in."

"For a reward?"

"Because it's the right thing to do," Buck corrected. "Those gems and that gold was stolen. I meant to save you a few, but it didn't seem right in the long run." He cocked his head. "I know you'd understand."

"Understand?" Ezra sputtered.

"Been enough bad ju-ju going on around here," Buck stated. "Plenty of people have suffered over those riches. Figured I'd steer you clear of any bad luck."

"There is no such thing as luck," Ezra harrumphed. "They may have missed a few. I have sharp eyes and could assist in the hunt." He smiled slyly. "I am fairly lucky at finding such things."

Buck leaned over him, pressing a finger against his chest. "You and JD are stayin' put for a while longer. Nathan's orders."

Ezra could see it then, the red lines under Buck's chin, along his throat, where Sarah Heisenberg had dragged the tip of that knife.

Ezra swallowed, and muttered, "My most humble apologies, Mr. Wilmington."

"Huh?" Buck sat back. "What?"

"For nearly causing your demise," Ezra said regretfully.

Buck grimaced and touched his neck. "That wasn't you, Hoss. That was Heisenberg."

Ezra went on. "It was a craven decision on my part." He paused, his mouth feeling dry and his head ached along with the pain in his side. "I should never have given your name to those wretched miscreants." He closed his eyes, unable to meet Buck's concerned gaze. "I was trying to save my own skin in that moment when I sent Heisenberg and her reprobates after you. To think, I was at fault for any harm suffered by…"

Buck laughed, stopping Ezra's discourse and making him look up. "This little ol' thing?" Wilmington said, pointing to the damage done to his neck. "Hell, Ezra, it won't even be visible after it heals, long as I don't shave too close."

"And you were beaten," Ezra added.

"That happens just about every Saturday," Buck added with a chuckle. "It ain't nothin' compared to what happened to you – and JD." He paused, fixing Ezra with a steady gaze. "If they killed ya, and didn't find that necklace on you, they would've gone after JD next, and we both know where you'd hid that thing. You had to send them after someone else."

"You located it?" Ezra asked.

Buck chuckled, and pulled the pretty necklace from his pocket. Purple gems sparkled in the low light. Ezra's eyes sparkled as well when they lit upon it.

With a curious expression, Buck asked, "How'd you hide it on JD? We all thought it was in the bunny all along."

"That was the point," Ezra said. "I knew JD had been toting it about in his jacket pocket. Once I knew that we had jackals around us, it had to be moved. I shifted it to his inside pocket."

Beside him, JD stirred, and slowly rose up on one elbow. "Yeah," he said dreamily. "How'd you do it? I thought you took it from me because you figured I wasn't good enough to keep it safe." He took a moment to rub at one ear. He yawned and seemed satisfied.

With a sigh, Ezra said, "That was never my intention, Mr. Dunne. Truly, I only wanted to perpetrate a ruse on the others and figured you'd quickly discover its new hiding place. I wanted our observers to think I had taken it from you, to hide it in that ridiculous bunny, and then passed it on to Mr. Wilmington, but all the time I wanted you to keep your diligent guard over it."

Ezra leveraged himself up enough so that he could look JD in the eye. "I knew you were more than capable, JD. I had no idea that we would be separated for so long, nor that both of us would be incapacitated enough so that its new location would not be discovered for so long. It was a simple magician's trick, a little misdirection, letting others assume that an item had been moved, when it never truly left its original location."

Feeling his weariness pull at him, Ezra sunk back into his original position, stating emphatically, "I trust you implicitly, JD."

JD said nothing, and in the silence, Ezra didn't know what to think.

"It was a good plan, Ezra," Buck said.

Ezra felt his exhaustion, ready to go back to sleep. "Still…"

"Thank you," Buck stopped him. "I can handle myself, Ezra. I can handle this," he pointed again to where the knife had cut into his skin. "I couldn't 'ave handled it if she'd killed you – if she'd killed JD as well. I damn well couldn't have handled either of those things."

"She wouldn't have killed me, Buck," JD protested. "I can handle myself."

Buck snorted. "I don't know, JD. That woman was a wildcat!" He rested his hand for a moment on Ezra's chest, smiling thoughtfully. "Glad to see you awake," he said. "I'll go find Nate and see what he has to say about you, but my diagnosis is you'll be fine." He stood and gave JD another brotherly pat. "First though, I'm gonna see Emmie. See if she's still lookin' for another kiss."

He touched the brim of his hat as he moved toward where the bearded lady was sitting with Dolly and Polly and the old lady who had no arms. Emmie noted his movements, smiled and stood, taking her leave of the others so that she might find a more private place in that open church.

Ezra chuckled, and glanced to JD – seeing the kid laugh and shake his head. Then, he sunk back into place on the pew, feeling much better.

 **Chapter 36: Separate Ways**

"You're leaving now?"

Nathan paused as he prepared his saddle for the journey home. He looked up to find Ginny walking toward him.

"Yeah, we got to get back to Four Corners," he said apologetically. "They need me there."

Ginny nodded. "We need to be leaving as well."

Things had calmed down at Cedar Ridge since the destruction of the Forbidden Planet. Thankfully, the town itself had escaped unscathed with the carnival suffering all the damage. The injured had been collected and tended, the dead – buried. The debris was cleared even as the merry hunt for lost jewels continued.

Ezra had attempted to join in the search for riches, but was frustrated by an unlucky streak – and being unable to stoop. By the time Nathan allowed him up and around, the fairgrounds and town had been thoroughly combed and stripped.

The Forbidden Planet Carnival had been utterly destroyed, but most of the folks who worked it had survived. They picked up what they could, loading it on their wagons and prepared to go – onward to somewhere new. The game operators, the food stand vendors, the roustabouts and carnies had started to drift away – each headed toward their own destiny.

The people from the freak show stayed together. Bobo, Sid the Squid, Dolly and Polly, Emmie and all the rest – they would not be parted. Ginny had sent messages out to other outfits and had secured a new home for all of them with a small traveling circus that needed such an attraction. "We could have gone with Barnum," she had told Nathan. "He was interested in us, but he's too damn big for his britches. If we folded in with him, we'd disappear. We'd be nothing to him. He'd pick and choose and let some of us go. I found us a place where they'd treat us right, keep all of us together, let us run our own tent."

Her group was getting ready to head out as well, having found their wagons and secured several of the Forbidden Planet's former employees to help. Bernard, the Big Baker, would go with them.

Nathan nodded. He needed to go home – and he knew that Ginny needed to travel.

A few days had passed. The ringing and the deafness had left Nathan and JD. Both JD and Ezra were well enough to be in the saddle.

Ginny came out to see them off, with Petey – the one-eyed, spotted rat terrier – at her side. The dog wagged its stub tail and looked around attentively, his expression jolly. He was plumper than he used to be. His tail wagged endlessly.

Vin had already skedaddled, needing to put some distance between himself, the Texas District Attorney and the investigation of the dead Texas Rangers. He'd meet his team outside of town. His headache had already disappeared, and the injury he'd suffered caused him no further troubles.

Leander Matthews, recovering nicely from his wounds, had been speaking to each of them in turn, attempting to straighten out the convoluted mess of the case. When asked about Yosemite, the longhaired Texan who'd been incarcerated with them, the others could only shrug and declare their inability to remember anything pertinent about him.

"Not exactly a memorable guy," Buck had said, scratching his head.

Ezra had hardly given the DA a glance. "I don't recall him at all," he'd said. "I'd been rather occupied at the time."

Sureshot, Heisenberg and her father were all dead. Sarah's husband would not hang for her murder, but her letter to Long-John Tom would be enough to make him a suspect in the Reno train robbery and the murder of the conductor.

The carnies who'd worked for them had been rounded up and were being held for trial. The men who'd killed those brave rangers would pay. Only the New Jersey Korean Ninjas had disappeared. Someone had claimed seeing them riding on the roof of a rail car – headed north. Ginny said that they probably hadn't been involved with the worst of it, in any case. They'd been with the carnival long before the others arrived, and probably had just been caught up in the ruckus.

Nathan glanced to Ezra and JD, already in their saddles and eager to be underway. Their injuries were healing well, and although he would have preferred to keep them still for a few more days, he didn't want to put up with what that entailed. It would be easier to get them moving, and patch up any leaks along the way.

Larabee waited on his horse, cracking walnuts and picking out the meats.

Buck was chatting with a pretty brunette with a perfect groomed beard and mustache. He leaned closer to her, eating an apple in most lascivious way. Bobo the Wildman from the Wilds of West WalloWallo was cavorting nearby, looking up every time Emmie giggled. Bobo's hat, looking a little worse for wear, was perched once again on his hairy head.

Josiah came out of the livery, leading his horse, bringing it alongside Ezra. He'd be Standish's shadow for the journey home. Nathan would keep close to JD.

Realizing he was under scrutiny, Nathan turned to face Ginny again, finding her smiling. "I still use the salve you concocted for me," she stated. "I make it up every Tuesday." She ran a hand down her scaly-looking skin – a malady that itched like crazy at times, that became painful when the weather was too dry, and was usually an irritation to her. "It helps me so much," she said quietly. "I can never thank you enough."

With a smile, Nathan remembered how she'd sheltered him when he needed it the most. "I'd do anything for you," he responded.

"I know," she responded. "I'm glad," she added.

Nathan must have given her a confused look because she chuckled.

"I'm glad you've found a home," she said. She bent down to give Petey a happy scritch behind the ears. The dog yapped loudly and then took off after Bobo who gleefully led him on a chase. "I have mine here." She indicated Emmie and Bobo with a nod. "This is my family. My home is the road. When I first knew you, I thought it'd be great if you came along with us. I thought you'd fit in just fine, but you weren't right for it."

Nathan furrowed his brow. "But I thought we all got along well. I thought hard about staying with you all. I could have stayed."

Ginny held up her hand. "I knew you needed more. My life is a ramble. You needed a place where you could put down roots, where you could see things grow and bloom. You found that, didn't you?"

He paused, thinking, then nodded.

"I'm glad," she repeated. And then laughed when Ezra said something to Josiah that made the big man react. His chestnut horse bobbed away before the big man could snatch him out of the saddle. Buck used the distraction to toss the apple core at JD, knocking the bowler hat from his head. The kid squawked, hands reaching in surprise at his bare head. He quickly turned his horse, aiming at Wilmington.

Buck took off as JD urged his horse forward and used Emmie and Bobo for cover. JD threaded his way amongst them, hot on Wilmington's trail. Petey took chase until Buck made it to his own horse – swinging into the saddle in one smooth movement. JD slammed his horse against Buck's big gray – and the two horses spun about in a dance with the rat terrier hollering at their hooves, artfully avoiding getting trodden.

"Enough!" Chris shouted. "We got to get going!"

"He knocked my hat off!" JD insisted, pointing the blame at Buck as he disentangled the horses and brought his to where the hat had fallen.

Noting that JD was about to attempt snaring the hat without getting down from his saddle, Nathan moved quickly to grab it for him, nearly losing a finger as the dog swooped in to grab it as well.

"Thanks, Nate!" JD said, taking the hat from Nathan as Jackson double-checked to make certain he still had all his digits.

Nathan found Ginny beside him again. "Safe journey," she said, touching his arm.

"You, too," he said, wanting to say more.

"Always," she replied and give him a kiss on the cheek. "Take care of yourself, Nate. Take care of your friends, too. It looks like they need it." She nodded as JD's hat went flying again – a walnut this time.

Buck pointed at Ezra who shook his head and said, "That wasn't my fault."

Josiah was giving Chris a scrutinizing look. Larabee slipped a nutcracker into his pocket and turned to look in the direction of home. "Let's go," he said.

Jackson shook his head, and obligingly picked up the hat again to hand it to JD while Petey ran to Bobo to gnaw on his heel. The kid nodded his thanks and settled the hat again on his head. Bobo didn't seem to mind the dog. Petey looked delighted.

Nathan turned to Ginny again, but behind her, more of her friends were approaching – Bernard the Big Baker carried Dolly and Polly, while the dwarf – a man named Ricardo – led the bear on a leash. Sid followed behind.

Nathan smiled at Ginny. "Thank you for everything," he said.

"We'll see each other again," Ginny promised.

And with a nod, Nathan swung himself into his saddle. Ginny's friends stood close to her, lifting their hands to wave goodbye.

He gave them one last nod, touching the brim of his hat, and then they were off. Petey gave chase as they left town, but quickly returned to the others.

As they came to the first rise, they caught sight of a figure on a horse, waiting for them, ready to go home as well.

 **THE END**

 _Thank you for your many fine comments. This story was silly. This story was weird. We hope you enjoyed it._


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